The Bureau: Summer Declassified
by Joey245
Summary: Following her final confrontation with Salem, Summer Rose is mysteriously transported to another world on the brink of war - not only with itself, but with an alien invasion. Can she navigate this strange new world? Will she ever find a way back home to Remnant? And what secrets does the Bureau hold? (Inspired by DrAmishMD's excellent XCOM/RWBY stories.)
1. Prologue: I May Fall

Her chest heaved and strained for breath, laboring more and more to keep drawing cold, lifeless air into her lungs. Her weapons lay shattered at her feet, broken beyond repair or identification. Her white cloak was tattered and torn, stained with blotches of red that flowed from her wounds. Her milky-white Aura rippled around her, flickering and fizzling before vanishing altogether. And her eyes…

She looked up around the dark, dreary landscape around her. Hordes of Beowolves, swarms of Nevermores, and even towering Goliaths moved in to surround her. And standing at the forefront was the immortal enemy of humanity, the mistress of magic that commanded the Grimm and waged a war for Remnant.

Salem.

The witch let out a small chuckle as she watched the wounded, weary Huntress slowly rise to her feet, clutching her bleeding side as she did so. "You put up a valiant fight, I must admit. It's been a while since I've had a fight this...invigorating. But I fear you've overstayed your welcome...Miss Rose."

Despite every part of her screaming out in pain, despite the burning sensation as she held a Fire Dust crystal to her bleeding side, despite the sea of darkness closing in around her...Summer smiled.

This witch couldn't kill her.

_Not while she still had her eyes._

Summer Rose let out a feral scream, her eyes of silver unleashing a flash of bright light that turned the dense concentrations of Grimm to stone. Beowolves howled before they became statues, Nevermores fell out of the sky and crumbled into dust, and even the mighty Goliaths staggered backwards in shock. Once the initial horde was cleared, Summer concentrated inwards and shaped that light into weapons and dashed back into the fray, channeling her power into rings of light that rotated around her, protecting her in the absence of her Aura. She knew she was pushing her limits, she knew that she was using her life force to power her eyes, but she didn't care. She would not go down without a fight.

As she tore through the Grimm with weapons of light, her heart raced and pounded as her mind focused on all that she loved. Her team...her partner Qrow, her friend Raven, and her husband...Taiyang. Her daughters, her beautiful, wonderful little girls Yang and Ruby...they kept her eyes shining even in the deepest of darkness. Axes, warhammers, scythes, and blades swirled and spun around her as she leapt and flipped through the air, cutting down the monsters of nightmares that dared to threaten her world, her home, her family.

A Goliath raised a massive foot to stomp upon her, but she deftly dodged it and slashed at its heel with three katanas of silver light. The elephantine Grimm trumpeted in torment as its foot was turned to stone, cracking beneath the weight of the one supporting it. Inspired by the idea, Summer leapt and ran up the now-immobile leg of the massive pachyderm, dragging her blades along behind her as she dashed up to the Grimm's neck. The rest of the leg was soon turned to stone as well, further crumbling under the weight of the solidified darkness.

Once she reached the top of the Goliath, she stood on top of its head and focused her silver eyes again, this time channeling the light into a focused beam instead of a wide swath. Twin lances of silvery light turned anything under her glare into ashes, be it an Alpha Beowolf, a Giant Nevermore, or even the legs of another distant Goliath. Suddenly deprived of half its supports, the Goliath fell dramatically to one side, crushing any Grimm that happened to be unfortunate or unaware enough to be underneath it when it landed.

With a determined grin, Summer turned her penetrating gaze upon Salem, who raised her arm to call forth more Grimm. Soon a stack of Ursai and other hardy creatures of darkness appeared out of nowhere to defend their queen, blocking the path of the twin rays of pure creation. With her other arm, Salem reached out and tore apart what was left of the stone-legged Goliath, transmuting its matter into clawed tendrils that swirled around Summer and encased her in an orb of darkness.

Summer's eye beams vanished as a thorny tentacle wrapped around her neck, yanking her backwards into an abyss and choking what life remained out of her. She grabbed the appendage and pulled it apart with a knife made of silver light, only for three more to wrap around her lower face. More tendrils of darkness bound her arms, her legs, and her eyes, dragging her into a sphere that floated above the battlefield. As clawed hands crushed her torso and thick, dark matter forced its way down her throat and nostrils, a single thought ran through her mind.

_Life is beautiful…_

A smiling baby with silver eyes, just like her own.

_It is precious…_

A giggling, happy toddler with long blonde hair, smiling in the sunshine.

_And it must…_

A handsome young man with blonde hair and tattoos standing over her, bending down to kiss her affectionately.

_...be protected._

Another flash of silver emerged from Summer's eyes, burning through the tendrils that wrapped around them as well as sending a shaft of light breaking through the surface of pure black. More beams of light emerged from the crack before the orb of darkness shattered into nothingness and a star going supernova hovered in the sunless sky. Summer floated there for one graceful moment, surrounded by flowing, glowing petals that orbited around her on unseen winds, infusing her Semblance with that silver Grimm-slaying light - the same light that could bring an end to Salem once and for all.

She vanished in a flash of petals before reforming and reappearing behind Salem, darting forward and slashing past her once, twice, three times before the witch could even react. She howled and screamed in agony as the pure essence of creation coursed through her, burning the darkness locked away in her immortal body. The Grimm leapt to her defense, but were burned to ashes by the vengeful gale, who blinked and teleported across the dark landscape like a laser trapped in a maze of mirrors, tearing through the monsters and Salem with each pass.

But this ultimate display of power could not last forever.

As she rushed in to deal the final blow, Summer's body finally gave out. Drained of all its strength and soul, she became tangible once more as she soared past Salem, flying like a ragdoll across the ebony plains and bouncing with each painful, bone-breaking landing. Her limp form eventually stopped at the edge of the world, sliding until she just barely hung from the cliff side.

Barely breathing, barely alive. Summer had no more strength left in her, no more fight, no more light. She was vaguely aware of the Grimm closing in on her, itching and waiting to finish her vulnerable form off for their wounded mistress. Salem had been dealt a mortal blow, sure...but it wasn't enough to finally rid Remnant of its nightmare. The immortal witch would recover, and her strength would return, and soon she would terrorize this world again. She always did.

But the Huntress chose not to think of her failure as her eyes glazed over, as her breathing slowed, as the sound of her heartbeat came fewer and farther apart. Her mind thought once again of her home, her family, her friends, but this time it was not to fight. This time it was to bring comfort to her, in her final moments.

Miles away from the world she loved, Summer Rose died.

* * *

On seemingly the other side of the universe, in a secure office room on a small blue planet, a collection of very important men in suits and ties sat around a U-shaped desk. Some of them were smoking expensive cigars, some were trying to muscle down the awful-tasting coffee, while others listened to the very strange recorded noises currently being played over the speakers.

Behind the table, standing over a technician that was monitoring a control console, a very well-dressed man in a sharp suit and glasses pressed a button on the console. The sounds stopped immediately, and the usual hum of radio equipment and chatter of everyday life resumed.

"We've been intercepting these signals for the past six months," said the man with the glasses as he walked back to the table. "We still don't know their origin, but our analysts have concluded that they are encrypted orders for sleeper agents operating inside this country."

"Just the sort of thing Mr. Hoover has been warning about," grumbled a man wearing green as the bespectacled man took a seat at the foremost position of the table.

"Soviet operatives have penetrated the very highest levels of our military and government," said a very stern-looking man on the other side of the table as he drew a whiff of smoke from his cigar. "It is a fact."

The man in the middle seemed to have a different idea, however. "The NSA is not convinced that this is a Soviet operation -"

A loud groan came from the man in green. He leaned forward and firmly placed his hands on the desk in front of him. "Director Faulke...is this going to devolve into another one of your 'Outsider' briefings?"

Several men at the table rolled their eyes. Faulke, meanwhile, took a long, patient draught of his cigarette, giving himself time to prepare a counter-argument. When he breathed out, he addressed the men at the meeting professionally and calmly.

"Well, there's been a new development," he explained. "A device was recently recovered from the elerium mines in Bannack, Montana. The technology is unknown to us, but suggests the activity of a far more sophisticated organization."

The man wearing green didn't seem very convinced. "And where is this…'device?'"

"Close," said Faulke as he picked up the phone on the table. Into the receiver, he issued a terse command.

"Send Agent Carter down."

* * *

The people of Remnant had a lot of theories about what happened to souls after death. Some believed that those judged worthy would be returned to the side of the God of Light, while those who did wicked would be sent to the side of the God of Darkness. Others believed that their souls bonded with the Dust, powering the mystical mineral that fueled the world they lived in. Still others believed that nothing happened, that the souls of the departed just lingered in an empty, meaningless void forever. (These people, oddly enough, weren't very popular at parties.)

Summer Rose had heard all of those theories, and even believed a few of them herself. But never, in a million years, would she have guessed that the afterlife would take the form of a warm bed in a dimly-lit room.

And yet...that was exactly where she found herself.

* * *

(AUTHOR'S NOTE)

Hey everyone, Joey245 here! So...this one has a bit of a history behind it.

For the past four or five years, I've almost religiously followed the fantastic XCOM/RWBY Crossover stories by DrAmishMD, which seamlessly combines and melds the best elements of XCOM and RWBY and to this day remains one of the greatest stories I've ever read. Well, the author set up a discord server one fateful day for fans of the work, and in the insanity that ensued, someone pitched a suggestion that took root in my mind.

What if, instead of dying on her final mission, Summer Rose was mysteriously transported to Earth and took part in the events of The Bureau: XCOM Declassified?

Now, I'm a staunch defendant of the Bureau. Some would call it a boring repetitive squad-based cover shooter, and they would be absolutely correct. Some would say it's an attempt to emulate Mass Effect, and I agree. But the game it was and the game it could have been absolutely fascinated me, and given how little we knew about Summer Rose at the time, slipping her into the events of the game wouldn't be too much of a stretch.

So that idea sat and percolated in my mind for a year, and then DrAmish introduced Summer in Remnant Unknown in a way that greatly upset me (in both a good and bad way). That event inspired me to finally get to work in writing this: a fanfic that could conceivably work as an AU Prequel to RWBY Within. Encouraged by DrAmish himself, I finally began writing my first real project in over three years. I have no idea how long this is gonna live, or where it ends up going, but I promise you it's gonna be a wild ride.

So sit down, grab a cigarette* and a hat, and let's look at humanity's first contact with alien life on earth, both good and bad.

*Please don't actually smoke.


	2. Invasion!

William Carter was a man who had seen and been a lot of things. He had seen the Japanese bombing Pearl Harbor, pulling the United States into a worldwide war and momentarily pulling him away from his path to a Bachelor's degree in Engineering. He had been a spook in the CIA, where he made a name for himself by pretending to be other people in the USSR and Indochina. He had been an escaped refugee looking to start anew, a family man with a wife and seven children, and a drug trafficker down in Laos. He knew a thousand ways to kill a man, and four hundred ways to make it look like an accident. Barely anything shook him, barely anything fazed him.

Except, apparently, young naked women emerging out of the blankets of his previously-unoccupied bed. Because the instant he saw that happening in front of him, he freaked the hell out.

"Who are you?! How did you get in here?!" he shouted, drawing his pistol and pointing it at the intruder. The woman, who had been stretching as if awakening from a long slumber, suddenly grabbed the blanket and covered her exposed chest. "Hands in the air, now!"

The woman's silver eyes widened in shock. "You want me to do...that? But if I do that you'll see my -!"

"I said hands up!" repeated Carter. He clicked off the safety.

As bewildered as the intruder was, she seemed to recognize a gun well enough. She sighed and stepped out of the bed, letting the blanket fall as she did so. Carter's eyes glanced up and down the woman's figure professionally, checking for any hidden weapons. At his order, she turned around, and Carter finally clicked the safety back onto his pistol with a sigh.

"See?" snapped the woman as she snatched the blanket back up and wrapped it around her less-modest features, "Not hiding anything except a nice rack and a sweet ass. Now can you please give me some answers? And some clothes, too."

Carter chuckled wryly as he stood up. "I don't think you're in much of a position to make demands, young lady. Tell me...just where the hell do you think you are?"

The young woman hummed thoughtfully. "I don't know. Heaven?"

"Purgatory, more like. Let me give you a bit of context: you are currently in one of the most top-secret military installations in the United States, maybe even in the entire goddamn world. I had to pass several checkpoints just to even be able to look at this thing, I have to file a mountain of paperwork anytime I feel like I need to sneeze, and the only reason I'm here in the first place is because Director Faulke expects me to bring _that_ briefcase to his little pow-wow so he can show off whatever's inside it to all his friends."

The woman glanced impassively down at the briefcase on the table, guarded vigilantly by two bottles of hard liquor. She returned her stare to Carter soon after.

"So unless you're part of the cleaning staff or you were hired by some idiot here trying to 'make it up to me', you'd better have a _damn_ good reason why you were sleeping in my bed. So either you start talking...or I start shooting. Clear?"

The woman nodded fearlessly. "My name is Summer Rose, and I don't know how I got here. I have no intention to harm you, nor was I sent by anyone to my knowledge."

Carter raised an eyebrow at how...quickly this woman seemed to calm down. "Well, Miss Rose, in that case, I'll have to ask you to come with me to see the director. If he can't explain why you're here, then -"

Suddenly, a knock at his door. "Agent Carter," came a cold female voice.

Scooping his hat off the floor and back onto his head, he glared at Summer. "You. Hide. Now."

Summer gladly obliged, ducking underneath the bed. Carter went over to the door, stowing his gun in the holster hanging from his chest.

"Who wants to know?" he asked warily as he opened the door slowly.

"Your escort," came the reply as a female officer pushed past the door and into his room. "Director's orders."

Carter's eyes tracked the second uninvited visitor as she briskly walked past him. "I don't need an escort," he said pointedly.

"Well, you're getting one. How much have you been told?"

He pointed to the briefcase still being guarded by his alcohol-filled friends. "My orders are to deliver that case to Director Faulke. That is all."

The officer looked over at the briefcase, and nodded. "And you haven't even been the least bit curious to what's inside?"

Carter furrowed his brow. "Uh...no," he said plainly. _Something's not right. First some woman shows up in my bed, and now this bitch is getting curious about the case. Either I'm magnetically attracting the ladies today...or something weird is going on._

Another nod from the officer. "Good. But I'll have to make sure…"

As soon as she started walking towards the case, Carter knew it wasn't the first option. He reached out and grabbed the officer's wrist, halting her stride.

"No one touches that case except Director Faulke...and _me_."

The officer lady scoffed. "We'll see about that."

Before Carter could react, the woman pulled a pistol out from her holster and shot Carter at point-blank range. The bullet tore through his chest, sending him flying back against the nearby wall. As his blood painted the white-painted walls, he was vaguely aware of the woman throwing the gun away and walking over to the briefcase.

* * *

Summer had to muffle a gasp as she saw the man - Carter, she guessed his name was - fly across the room, falling limply within her line of sight. She saw a pair of heels step in front of the table with the briefcase, pausing as she looked down at it.

"It's here," she heard the officer whisper, "this is it."

And with barely even a grunt of exertion, she slammed her fist down onto the briefcase, smashing it open with nothing more than her hand. Immediately a bright white light began to envelop the room, and the officer stepped back for a moment, seemingly taking in the brilliance.

But the thing that made Summer's eyes widen in fear was the face of the woman, as black fluid dribbled from her tear ducts down her face and as her eyes began glowing red. Her movements became mechanical, almost lifeless, and blood ran down her mouth and nose as she gazed into the light.

_This isn't heaven_, she realized, _this is hell!_

* * *

This wasn't the first time Carter had been shot, not even the first time he had been shot by a lady. After mentally blocking out the pain, he rose to his feet, shielding his eyes from the brilliance shining from the now-smashed briefcase.

He stepped up behind the woman, drawing his own pistol from its resting place. "Drop it!" he spat, pointing it squarely at the neck of the officer.

Unlike his first unexpected guest, this one was far less compliant. Instead of dropping whatever she had found in the case, she turned around stiffly, looking at Carter with bleeding, glowing eyes.

"What the hell -" was all Carter had time to say before the officer wordlessly reached out and clutched his throat, pushing him back into the wall and through a table. Then she slammed him to the floor, pushing all the weight down on his larynx and cutting off that vital flow of blood and oxygen that his brain constantly hungered for.

Slowly, but surely, the world started to go black.

* * *

Summer Rose could hide no longer.

Asshole or not, she could not let this man die. After all, she was - or had been - a Huntress. And Huntresses lived their lives in the service of protecting humanity.

And no matter how much it looked like a woman, the thing attacking Carter was not human. Not anymore at least.

So, armed with nothing but her own two hands, she rose up from under the bed and charged at the woman, shoulder-checking her and knocking her against the wall. Now the target of the rage, the officer slammed an elbow down on her spine before clawing and scratching, creating several red gashes across Summer's exposed back. Feeling blood seep through the gouged skin, Summer screamed out as she picked the woman up and suplexed her, hearing the satisfying crunch of bones snapping as the officer collided with the floor.

Despite having quite a few bones broken, the woman still reached out to grab Summer, who deftly slipped through the hold. Spotting the woman's discarded gun across the floor, she made a mad dash for it, only for the officer to clamp a bloody hand around her ankle. The Huntress fell to the ground hard, rolling over to put her arms up just as the deranged monster pounced on her, battering her defenses with a flurry of swipes and blows.

_Why isn't my Aura protecting me?_ Summer's mind raced as the officer continued her assault, _and why can't I use my eyes? I know they only activate in the presence of Grimm, but...if it isn't a Grimm possessing this woman, then what_ is_ wrong with her?_

Her thoughts were cut short as the officer finally broke through her guard, clamping her vice-like grip around her neck. Summer's mouth limply hung open as she tried to gasp for air that would not come, her hands desperately searching for the abandoned gun. Eventually, she found it - her frantic fingers closed around the still-hot barrel of the pistol. With no time or ability to properly grab it, she settled for the next best thing - she whipped the gun's grip against the side of the woman's head, making her release her grip and clutch the gaping head wound. Now free to stand up and breathe, Summer aimed the pistol at the officer's head and fired three quick rounds right between the glowing eyes.

The woman's form finally stopped moving, and the light finally faded from the room.

Summer let out a shaky breath she hadn't even realized she had been holding, falling to her knees as she looked over the scene in front of her. Unsteady gasps and pained whimpers filled the silence created by the gunshot, her eyes widening with each terrifying thought that ran through her mind, crippling her and threatening to overwhelm her. But then her Huntress training kicked in, and she pushed those thoughts out of her mind as she narrowed her eyes, rising back to her feet and retrieving her torn bed sheet.

_Right. There will be plenty of time to process what's going on later. Right now...do what I need to do to survive._

She took one more look at the dead officer, noticing the...strange clothes she wore. It almost looked like an Atlesian military uniform, except it was all black with a pencil skirt and a long-sleeved jacket pinned with various medals. Whoever this woman had been before tonight, she must have been quite a distinguished soldier.

Most relevantly, she noticed that the body shape of the woman appeared quite similar to her own.

_Well...desperate times call for desperate measures._

* * *

"Mister Carter! Mister Carter, wake up!"

Carter awoke to a world of pain and a pair of silver eyes hovering over his own, as if scanning and looking for some sign of life.

"Julia?" He asked, dazed, "Is that you?"

"Julia? No...it's Rose. Summer Rose, remember?"

Carter groaned, making a motion to pick himself up. The silver-eyed woman backed away to give him enough space, before she stood up herself.

"What the hell just happened?" he groused as he picked up and readjusted his hat, "I remember you showing up, then that officer, then she shot me and…"

Summer nodded. "She tried to kill you, but I fought her off. Not before she smashed the briefcase, though." She handed him his gun off the floor.

Carter grabbed the offered weapon and stored it in its holster. Then he reached up to feel where the bullet had penetrated...only to run his hands over a smooth, freshly-healed patch of skin. No bullet hole? No pain? It healed, just like that?

"I was about to ask about that, actually," said Summer, "I came to check on the wound after I fought that thing, but...it just healed right before my eyes. Is that normal?"

Carter raised an eyebrow. "Not unless you're the goddamn Superman."

Summer blinked. "Super...man?"

The agent sighed. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. What matters is if she got what was in the case or not. Did you see anything?"

"No idea," answered Summer with a shrug, "It was pouring out so much light I couldn't get a good look at it. The light disappeared after I shot her...but whatever was in the case, it's gone now."

"Dammit…" Carter groaned as he massaged his temples, "Faulke's gonna have my head for this. If the Soviets got their hands on that, there's no telling what could happen. Unless…"

He drew his pistol in a flash, aiming it at Summer. Momentarily surprised, she soon brought the officer's pistol to bear, lining up the sights on Carter's center of mass.

"...did you take it?" he asked dangerously.

"Why would I take it?" shot back Summer, "I don't even know what it is. I don't even know where we are. I literally woke up five minutes ago, in a bed that I didn't fall asleep in, answering questions for a gun-happy lunatic with a weird hangup about hats and alcohol, and fought off a woman that tried to kill me! And the only reason she was trying to kill _me_ was because I stopped her from trying to kill _you_! I don't care what you think of me, Mister Carter, but right now I am not your enemy! But keep pointing guns at me and accusing me of things I haven't done, and I damn well _will be_!"

There was a tense moment between the two as they stared each other down. Finally, slowly, Carter was the first one to lower his weapon. Summer's grip on the pistol also relaxed, and she let her arms down as she stored the pistol back in its holster.

"There. Now, that wasn't so…"

Suddenly, a loud sound blared in the distance, followed by muffled orders being broadcasted through a low-quality sound system. Summer whirled around in search of the noise. Carter, meanwhile, grit his teeth.

"Alarms," he growled, "We're under attack."

"Under attack? From what?"

Carter glanced at the empty briefcase. "Probably from whatever wanted what was inside of that. You stay here, I'll go look for Director Faulke. If he's still alive, he'll know what to...wait…"

It was only now that Carter realized the woman wasn't standing in front of him in a bed sheet anymore, instead dressed somewhat messily in the officer uniform. The buttons didn't quite line up and she had foregone the leggings and high heels, leaving bare legs and feet poking out of the skirt. The holster was mounted on her hip, but it was empty - the gun was now in Summer's hands, as she checked the magazine and sights to make sure it worked properly.

"Did you...did you just steal those clothes?"

Summer shrugged. "I mean...she wasn't using them anymore."

"Are you crazy?!" Carter hissed, "We don't even know if that thing was human! What if the infectious agent is on the clothes? What if that's how it spreads?"

"Well I'm not gonna be running around in a fight wearing a bed sheet! Besides, do _you_ have any other clothes?"

Silence.

"Didn't think so. And if you think I'm staying here while you go out there, you're wrong. I'm coming with you."

"Like hell you are."

"Like hell I _am_."

Carter raised an eyebrow, before he sighed. "Are you good with a gun?"

Summer nodded.

"And you know how to fight?"

"Ever since I was eight years old."

"Christ...let me guess, your dad taught you?"

"My mom, actually."

"Right…" Another breathy sigh. "Fine, you can come with me. But don't expect me to drop everything and save you if you get in over your head."

"Likewise," said Summer, sliding the chamber on her gun. "Ready to go whenever you are."

William Carter was a man who had seen and been a lot of things. But right now, in this moment, just when he thought he had seen everything, he had met a woman that defied everything he thought was fact.

And as much as he didn't want to admit it...deep down, part of him was looking forward to seeing what else she could prove him wrong about.

"Alright. Let's move."


	3. First Contact

Summer Rose's first few hours in this strange new world were quite...illuminating.

She and Carter quickly and quietly navigated the burning halls of the Groom Range facility, vaulting over fallen debris and ducking underneath open windows. They caught brief glimpses of strange-looking metallic airships blasting the compound with what seemed like focused energy weapons and miniaturized red suns, which tore through the glass and concrete like they were made of packaging foam. And all around them came the screams of soldiers being slaughtered by an enemy unknown, as well as the smell of burning ozone and freshly-baked blood.

Summer had to reign in her urge to retch with every single body they passed, as the man led her through a mess hall full of unfinished meals and flat sodas and a courtyard full of tanks and trees on fire. Carter barely even batted an eye at the horrors around him, instead keeping a laser focus on...whatever was guiding him and pushing him forward. Although she didn't trust the man fully yet, she trusted him enough to guide her through this strange hellscape. Given the expressions of the dead soldiers and their surprised screams, attacks like this were not a normal occurrence.

Eventually after what felt like an eternity, they saw another living human soul. Past the wings of a burning airplane, they saw a young man in a similar vestment as Carter firing a bolt-action rifle at some unknown force. Lasers fired back in retaliation, forcing him to double back and head inside a building, slamming the door behind him. His reprieve would not last very long however, as a pair of strange entities clambered down from the roof and started moving towards the door.

"Get down, over here!" hissed Carter, as he and Summer took cover behind one of the airplane's wings. She peered over their hiding spot, trying to get a better look at the attackers. They resembled small gray babies with enormous heads, wearing a sort of blue glowing collar and carrying a small laser in their hand. One of them turned their head towards her, casting its massive almond-shaped eyes her way. She immediately ducked back down, and the creature turned its gaze back to the door.

"What are those things?" whispered Summer.

"How the hell should I know? I've never seen them before in my life." Carter cursed under his breath. "Flying saucers and laser guns...what kind of science-fiction shit is this?"

Summer may not have understood the reference, but she understood the intent...and the threat. "On the count of three, we shoot. I take the left one, you take the right."

Carter raised an eyebrow. "First off: how do we know if these things can be killed? And second, why should I listen to you?"

"Right now we have the advantage, the element of surprise," she countered. "And in my experience, a lot of things tend to die if you shoot it in the back of the head, which should be an easy target considering the size of these things. Finally...are you really gonna start questioning me now?"

The man leaned out and gazed at the creatures, who were busy trying to reach the door handle and failing miserably. Two more of them began approaching from the right, with some kind of device in their scrawny little hands.

"...fine," growled Carter, "You go down the right and take care of the new arrivals. I'll deal with the ones by the door."

Summer nodded, keeping her back hugged against the side of the wing as she slid downrange, resting her elbow on the warm metal to steady her aim. _Line up the shot and take it,_ she thought to herself, _you've done this a hundred times_. She was vaguely aware of Carter mumbling something similar under his breath, presumably to himself.

After a millisecond of tension, Summer took the first shot, planting a bullet right in the side of one of the approaching creatures and making it drop its device. The other one traveling screeched in surprise, which got the attention of the ones by the door. One of the creatures turned around only for Carter's first shot to splatter its brains against the wall, painting the building with a sickly blue fluid. The remaining creatures quickly tried to scramble to cover, but a well-placed shot from both Summer and Carter stopped them in their place. The skirmish was over in the span of a few seconds.

Summer let out a sigh of relief as she and Carter rose up from their improvised cover, making their way over to the door. With a wordless nod, Summer kept her pistol leveled while Carter pushed open the door, using his pistol to make a quick sweep as he stepped inside.

"_You won't take me, you alien -!_ Oh, you're human. Thank Christ."

Summer and Carter went inside to meet the young man that had retreated. "Easy there, son. What's your name and rank?"

The young man with slicked-back brown hair and shining green eyes saluted. "Agent Thomas Nils, Recon Division, Specialist Rank. And you must be Agent Carter, I presume. Director Faulke ordered me to -"

"Faulke!" interjected Carter, "Is he still alive?"

"Last I heard," nodded Nils, "Grab that two-way over there and try to reach...him…"

It was only now that Nils seemed to notice the young woman standing behind Carter. "Ma'am, please identify yourself."

She did so after a thoughtful moment. "Um...Agent Summer Rose, sir. I've been assigned as Agent Carter's escort."

Nils raised an eyebrow as he looked over Summer, from her head full of reddish-black hair to her bare feet covered with scratches and marks. Carter rolled his eyes. "You had to pick that word, didn't you?"

"There a problem, sir?" She asked innocently enough.

Nils hummed thoughtfully. "First I've heard of you, is all. Usually don't assign women the role of field agents, save for Weaver...what unit are you from?"

"We can figure that out later, Specialist. For now, let's hear what Faulke has to say." Carter picked up the big bulky brick from the nearby table, and began talking into it. "Director Faulke, come in. This is Carter."

A panicky voice loud enough to be heard even from this distance replied. _"This is Agent Kinney! The director and I, along with all surviving personnel, are defending the sub-level lab!_"

"Do you have an escape route?" asked Carter.

A loud boom could be heard on the other side. _"We're maintaining position until you and Nils report for evac!"_

Carter raised an eyebrow. That didn't sound like a 'yes'. "...Right. I'm on my way."

_"Get to the Advanced Materials Warehouse and take the elevator to the sub-level!"_ instructed Kinney from the other end, _"We'll hold here as long as we can!"_

As Carter let down the box, Nils took cover next to the door. "Come on," he motioned, "we can cut through here. And grab those M14's, you're gonna need something a little bigger than those little peashooters. Grab their mikes, too, in case we get separated."

Carter obliged, grabbing one of the long rifles from the two bodies laying in a puddle of their own blood. "Sorry soldier…" he muttered under his breath, "I need this more than you do right now."

Summer knelt down over the other body, kissing her fingertips before planting them on the forehead of the dead soldier. "I'm sorry we could not save you. Wherever you are now, I hope it is better than here."

She was vaguely aware of Carter and Nils watching as she pried off the soldier's boots, slipping her own feet into them. She tried not to think about whatever it was that was making that squishing noise - running around barefoot in a battlefield was just not going to work, and while her new footwear wasn't exactly a perfect fit, at least she could walk and fight in these unlike the impractical heels the lady had been wearing. After standing and testing them out, she jumped up and down a few times to make sure they fit, all while Carter and Nils just stared at her.

"So...did she say where she was from?" asked Nils in a whisper.

"She didn't say anything," muttered Carter, "so for all I know, she could be from the goddamn moon."

"...you realize we'd have to kill her if that's the case, right? She might be part of the -"

"I know. We'll sort it out with the director when we get out of here."

Summer frowned. Concluding that the boots would work, she picked up the long-barreled rifle with a stock and held it up. _Hmm...standard rifle, probably full-auto. Doesn't look like it form shifts into anything, or has any dust rounds. Just standard, metal bullets. Hopefully that'll be enough._

After picking up the magazines, she gave a terse nod to her tentative allies, pulling back the bolt to chamber a new round. "Ready to go when you are," she said as she clipped a black brick onto her belt.

Nils nodded. "Right. Come on. We can cut through here."

As the new soldier led Carter and Summer up a flight of stairs and down a metal scaffolding, the endless cacophony of panicking soldiers and barrages of laser fire continued to assault them. Only now Carter's radio was loudly blaring the chatter of the losing defenders, broadcasting their last moments and orders for the small group to hear. Summer felt the knot in her stomach grow tighter with each new transmission, but Carter barely batted an eye at the exclamations and proclamations of shock, horror, and death.

_"Missile impact is zero effect! Enemy craft is -AAAAIIEE!"_

_"Enemies incoming! We're pinned down!"_

_"Get those AA guns ready! Now!"_

_"What is that?"_

_"Take cover! Take cover!"_

_"Run! Get indoors!"_

_"Too late! They're here!"_

The young man known as Nils seemed a bit more discomforted than his friend. "Carter, turn that damn thing down. We really don't need to hear that."

Carter blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, then turned the dial on the box on his belt. The tinny cries for help slowly quieted, replaced only by the crackle of fire and the distant sounds of gunfire and screaming.

"I don't suppose that can tune into any local music stations?" asked Summer hopefully.

The stares of both Carter and Nils gave a pretty concrete answer.

After walking a bit, they came across what looked to be a hangar with a large steel door, and a smaller door up top for regular entry. Only problem was that the metal stairs that would have let them get up to it were currently all over the courtyard in heaps of twisted scrap metal.

"Dammit," growled Nils as he looked at what remained of the scaffold ten feet above them, "they must have gotten here before we did."

"I picked up some frags on the way," said Carter as he pulled what Summer could only describe as a small metallic pineapple from his belt. "Could use them to blow a hole in the side."

"These things were built to withstand atom bombs," said Nils as he shook his head. "That won't even leave a -"

"Is there a way to open it from the inside?"

Both men looked at Summer with a raised eyebrow. "Well, yes," answered Nils, "but how are we gonna - "

"Give me a boost."

Thomas Nils just sort of scoffed. "Seriously? You'd have to be some kind of Olympic athlete just to clear that jump. We need to -"

"Cover the door, Nils."

The young man almost choked on his own words. "Excuse me?"

Carter locked his fingers together as he stood directly beneath the door. "You heard me. Get ready to go in there once the doors open." To Summer, he said, "Once you get inside, look for some kind of button. Ready?"

Summer nodded, clipping her M14 onto her back as she stood a few paces away. Nils just stared and watched as the young woman sprinted straight for Carter, planting her boot on his waiting hands and using it as a foothold to leap. Not that it really made that much of a difference how hard Carter lifted - her jump alone easily gave her at least seven feet of pure vertical height, and after clamping her fingers around the cold steel platform, she pulled herself up with a grunt of exertion.

"What the hell…" mouthed Nils as Summer rolled onto her feet, opening the door and disappearing inside. She took a look around and saw a wall of windows on her right side, with a button immediately visible...as well as about a half-dozen of those small creatures scavenging the remains of soldiers on the floor in front of her.

Summer ducked out of view and unclipped the black box from her belt and stared at it for a minute, frowning as she tried to figure out how to use it. It was quite unlike the scrolls she had used back in Remnant - instead of being sleek and transparent, this was big and heavy and had a weird antenna and a bunch of different buttons and knobs that served no apparent function. It didn't even have a screen of any kind, which made operating it all the more -

_"Rose, what's the holdup? What's your status?"_

_"Does she know how to use these?"_

_"...um…"_

_"She can make that jump but she can't operate a mike? It's a toggle switch, for Christ's sake!"_

Oh. THAT'S what that side button was for.

She clicked it and spoke quietly into what she could only presume was the speaker. "This is Rose, I'm by the windows. Hostiles are inside."

_"Shit. They see you?"_

"Not yet," she replied tersely, "I'm gonna open the door now. There's a bunch of crates just on the other side - keep quiet and get into position behind them. I'll flank them from the window."

_"Understood, on your mark."_

_"I'm in position!"_

Taking a deep breath, Summer drew the rifle off her back and slammed down on the largest button. The hangar doors slid open in a loud humming of motors and rattling of chains, drawing the attention of the odd creatures and making them raise their pistols in anticipation. She then pushed the window open and rested the M14 on the windowsill, firing a burst of bullets at the unexpectant enemies. With a squeal of shock, they left their exposed cover, only to have their heads cored in by accurate bursts of fire from Nils and Carter as they popped out from behind stacks of crates. The final one tried to run, only to have its chin separated from the rest of its body by a sweeping burst from Summer. The ambush went flawlessly, and soon the silence returned.

"That got 'em," said Nils breathlessly, "Let's meet up on the other side. Advanced Materials Warehouse is just up ahead, hard to miss it."

Carter nodded, sharing a glance at Summer through the window. She nodded in return, going through a set of doors that led to the main hangar, regrouping with the men as they huffed up the steps to meet her.

"Nice shots," said Summer with a nod, "You guys are good."

Nils seemed to blush under the compliment. Carter, meanwhile, just shook his head.

"I used to be," growled the man in the gray hat.

"Bullshit," protested Nils, "Faulke wouldn't be interested in you if you weren't the best."

Carter just rolled his eyes. How many times had he heard that line before? "We'll see," he said simply as the odd trio made their way through the hangar.

A few burning streets and a few uneventful firefights with the tiny creatures later, the odd trio finally came across a large freight elevator tucked away on the south wall in an emptied-out warehouse. Hastily abandoned during the attack, the workers had left a lot of boxes and crates strewn around, their contents quickly scooped up and carried off to god-knows-where. Overlooking the shipping area to the left of the freight elevator was a well-lit office, with windows that were both shattered and splattered with blood.

"Ammo check," said Carter, "How's everyone doing?"

"Got enough rounds to fill up the old Springfield one more time after this," said Nils as he loaded a few long bullets into an open slot on top of his rifle. "Colt's spent, though."

"We'll work with that. Rose?"

Summer sighed. "Rifle's completely out. Still got my pistol, though it only has a few rounds left. What about you?"

Carter quickly checked his pockets. "Still got a full M14 mag and a couple of frags. Should last us long enough to meet up with the team protecting Faulke. Now, let's - "

_BOOM._

The earth beneath them shuddered and shook for a moment, as something crashed through the ceiling above them and slammed into the concrete floor. All three operatives pointed their weapons at the strange metallic sphere that now occupied the middle of the room, leaving a sizable crater in its wake.

"Goddamn, that was close…" muttered Nils, "They have artillery...great. Was...was it a dud?"

Carter shook his head. "Whatever that thing is, it wasn't meant to explode."

Summer furrowed her brow. "Then...what is it?"

"Let's not stick around to find out." Carter pulled himself away from the strange sphere. "Nils, I want you up there in that office in sniping position. Rose, cover the right flank. I'll take point."

Nils head up the steps without question. Summer, however, raised an eyebrow, following Carter to the control panel next to the elevator. "You seriously expect that we'll be attacked in the five seconds it takes an elevator to arrive?"

Carter shook his head. "More like five minutes, lady. These things aren't exactly known for their speed, especially not the ones that are designed to lift up to hundreds of tons. Besides, you've seen the rest of the base. No way that those little gray freaks we've fought so far could do that. They've gotta have bigger guns somewhere, and as soon as this thing starts moving, it'd be like ringing a goddamn dinner bell across the whole compound."

He punched a button on the control panel, which blinked faintly with a green light. A few seconds later, a low rumbling could be heard (and felt) by the soldiers. Summer felt her teeth rattle and her stomach shake in her ribs, while Carter just quietly observed while straightening out his black tie and gray hat.

"So yes, I am expecting an attack. And I also expect the troops under my command to obey my orders the first time they're given. So get in position, now."

_"Got eyes on movement outside the warehouse, Carter. About a hundred yards away. Observing for now."_

The agent gave Summer a look that practically screamed "I told you so." With a quiet scowl, Summer went and hid behind a stack of boxes, drawing her pistol in anticipation.

_"What do you see, Nils?"_ said Carter over the radios.

_"It's another one of those gray things...but...huh."_

_"What is it?"_

_"It…looks like it's on a leash."_

_"...you're kidding me."_

_"I wish. Looks like some kind of humanoid figure on the other end of it. Tall, broad-shouldered, covered in some kind of weird armor."_

_"One of ours?"_

_"Doesn't look like it. Can't get a good look at it's face to...oh no."_

_"Nils, report."_

_"I think it saw me! It just looked at me through my scope!"_

_"From a hundred yards? How is that possible?"_

_"I don't know! It just turned around and glared at me! Oh, God, it's face...its eyes...it's not human! And it SAW ME!"_

_"Drop it now, Nils!"_

A sniper shot rang out through the silence, punching through the open doors and flying off into the night.

_"...it just blocked my shot."_

_"It what?"_

_"It just blocked my shot! And now it knows where we are! It's heading this way!"_

Sure enough, Summer peeked over her cover to see a tall humanoid-looking figure with a spherical helmet, an odd disc on its back, and a flowing regal-looking cape step into the warehouse. The gray creature on the leash chittered in excitement, but with one swift tug on the leash the figure snapped its neck and cast it aside. Glowing with blue energy, the mysterious assailant pointed at Carter, and snarled.

_"Draa zaaik kiel! Eldik kraksad!"_

Before anyone could ask for a translation, a blue lance of light flew from the figure's hands, crashing through Carter's cover and slamming him into the wall behind him. Another four or five figures poured through the open doors, filing behind cover and firing red beams of pure energy from their metallic-looking rifles. Summer hunkered down behind her stack of crates while Nils took carefully-aimed shots at the new arrivals. One shot sent orange blood splatter from a shoulder, but the wounded soldier just snarled and popped the shattered bone back in place.

_"These things definitely aren't human! The fuck are they?"_

_"Hell if I know,"_ growled Carter as he rose to his feet. _"But it looks like the new ones can't block the shots like the big one can! Nils, wait for a chance to go for the head and put one between their eyes! Rose, get behind the big one and try to shoot that thing on its back!"_

_"Copy that! Steadying aim."_

"I'm going in!" shouted Summer, vaulting over her stack of crates and sprinting as fast as she could to the north end of the room. A few of the new arrivals scowled and tried to shoot her, but a barrage of fire from Carter's rifle forced them back into their own makeshift cover. With a flying kick, Summer knocked a strange soldier out from behind another large shipping container, putting a few pistol rounds into its head and torso to make sure it stayed down. A nearby enemy popped out from behind cover to avenge its fallen ally, but a well-placed shot from above cored its head and made it burst like a balloon.

"Thanks for the assist, Nils!"

_"You got it!"_

With most of the new contacts either occupied or bleeding on the floor, Summer decided now was as good a time as any to take a shot at the big guy with the cape. She stepped out from behind the container, aimed her pistol…

_Click! Click! Click!_

Dammit.

_"Rose! What's the holdup?"_

"Gun's empty! THAT'S the holdup!"

_"What? I thought you said - AAAAUGH!"_

_"NILS!"_

Summer watched as the glowing blue figure raised its hand again, sending another blue beam of energy from its palm. This time it targeted the upper west office, heading straight for the Recon agent. Unlike the first blast, this one seemed to ensnare him in a web of azure rather than send him flying, pulling him through the window instead of pushing him through the wall. The effect was just as deadly, though, as Nils smashed through a pane of glass and hovered in mid-air for a moment, before falling a good fifteen feet and hitting the ground with a sickening crack.

Infuriated, Summer threw her now-empty gun at the powerful commander, before charging headlong at it with nothing but her bare hands. The pistol spun end over end before bouncing off the armored helmet, which didn't do too much to damage it but it definitely got its attention. Spinning on its heel the humanoid figure held out its hand at Summer, before closing it into a fist and pulling downward. Instantly the woman felt a force drag her down into the ground, her bones becoming as heavy as stones and about as easy to lift.

The pain was unbearable, and it took every bit of concentration in her mind to keep herself from screaming out. Carter fired every bullet he had in his rifle at the backside of the superpowered adversary, but the bullets just rippled across an invisible screen that enveloped it. Summer's eyes darted left and right as the other troops took advantage of the opening their leader had created, some of them firing on Carter while the others flanked the vulnerable woman and prepared to fire.

That's when something clicked in Summer's mind.

_The bullets bounced off that thing's shield, but my gun didn't! So it must be configured to repel stuff above a certain velocity - but if we could get something that's meant to be thrown inside it.._

"Carter!" she growled out, "Grenade! Now!"

The man in the gray hat seemed to get the same idea. Unclipping one of the metallic pineapples from his belt, he pulled out a pin, held it in his hand for a second, then hurled it over his cover. Summer's eyes tracked the grenade as it bounced across the concrete floor, before rolling to a stop just between the armored soldier's feet.

It had just enough time to look down and let out half a scream before a storm of shrapnel tore it apart. Summer instantly felt the pressure on her body release, and she wasted no time scrambling to her feet and charging at the nearest remaining trooper. She ducked and wove around behind it before pinning its arm against its back, using it as a meat shield as she forced the soldier to fire on its ally, causing them both to cut each other down in a haze of red lasers. Another explosion and a cry of pain signaled the end of the encounter as Carter grenaded the last newcomer, leaving the battlefield with the smell of burning ozone and the sound of bloodied breathing.

Summer took a moment to catch her breath before her eyes widened in realization. "Nils!"

She and Carter took off running towards the fallen man. Her heart beat furiously as she ran, then skipped a few beats when she saw the young man's chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. By pure miracle, he had survived his fall. But unless he got healing right now, he wouldn't have much time to savor his newfound lease on life.

"Nils…" groaned Carter, putting a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"...d-...did we get them? Did we…"

Summer held his hands as he descended into a bloodied coughing fit. "Shh...it's okay. We won. We're safe."

"That's...all that matters…" whispered Nils weakly, his eyelids fluttering closed.

What happened next, neither Carter nor Summer could describe. At least, not for a long while later.

A pale blue light suddenly shone from Carter's hands, illuminating the veins in his forearm as trails of energy traced out from where he touched the Recon operative's shoulder. They spiraled out from their point of origin and flooded through his entire body, flowing over gaps of exposed flesh and guiding broken bones back into proper place. After a loud cracking sound, Thomas Nils took a deep breath with newly-inflated lungs - his skin as smooth as the day he had come out of his mother.

"What the hell…" muttered Carter as he stepped back, staring at his own hands in bewilderment.

Summer, meanwhile, furrowed her brow. "Just like back in the bedroom…"

"What?"

In answer to Carter's questioning glare, Summer explained, "I saw something similar happen to your wounds after I killed that officer. Your body glowed, and the gunshot wound just...healed back up. Almost like…"

Summer had to clamp her mouth shut.

_Almost like Aura._

A groan from Nils as he got back to his feet snapped them both out of their thoughts. "I don't know how you did that, Carter…" he said as he rolled his shoulders, "but thanks. I owe you a beer after this. Hell, I'll buy you a goddamn case after we get out of here. But let's actually leave first."

A soft chime signaled the arrival of the elevator at long last. As if nothing had happened, Nils went over to the now-unlocked door and slid it open, looking back at Summer with a glance. She looked at Carter, who still seemed puzzled at his unusual ability.

"It just doesn't make sense…" he mumbled, "It just doesn't make any goddamn sense."

Summer risked reaching out and putting a hand on Carter's shoulder, which made him flinch. Still, that was the most reaction she got out of him, aside from having him stare at her.

"None of this makes sense," said the displaced Huntress. "Especially not to me. But the way I see it, we've got two choices. Sit around and try to figure out what's going on and die here, or keep moving forward and live. It sounds like we have a chance to do the latter. Are you going to take it? Or did all these people die for nothing?"

Carter glared at her for a long, hard moment, before letting out a sigh. He took off his hat, readjusted it a bit, then put it back on. "Right...let's move."

As they approached the elevator, Nils suddenly had a thought. "Hey. Those things...think we should grab some of their gear? It looks leagues above what we're using, and I'm sure Faulke will want to take a good look at some of the stuff they've brought. Like those shields and...lasers."

With a shrug, Carter and Summer went back and picked up a few burnt-out metallic pistols and scraps of shredded armor. Summer found an oddly-shaped rifle that felt as light as a cloud made out of foam, while Carter pried the strange harness off what was left of the shielded humanoid. After a moment of scavenging what they could, the three of them stepped into the elevator and began the slow descent into the darkness.

Summer wasn't sure what would be waiting for them…

But it couldn't be any worse than her first few hours on this new world.


	4. The Nuclear Option

(A/N) This is the last of the pre-written chapters I've written, so from now on I'll be uploading chapters as I write them. It might take a while! But I made this one extra-long to compensate. Enjoy!

* * *

As bad as today had been so far... it still wasn't the worst day in Myron Faulke's life.

As soon as he gave the order to bring Carter to the meeting with the brass, all hell had broken loose. All the people at his meeting, all the people that had scoffed at his 'Outsider' briefings, suddenly started convulsing and drooling some sort of black fluid, and flung themselves with extreme violence against whatever happened to be standing nearby. Thank God that Weaver was on hand with her Springfield - that situation could have gotten even uglier than it already had. Still, the fact that it had happened at all was cause for alarm - many of the top-ranking military personnel, including J. Edgar Hoover himself, were now lying in a pile of corpses in a smoky room upstairs somewhere.

From there, the attack was coordinated, swift, and brutal. First their communication lines were cut. Then their troops were separated and surrounded. Even if they didn't have flying gunships that swam through the air and weapons that turned everything to ashes, their tactics would've been enough. This was premeditated, this was planned.

This was _war._

Taking a long draft from his cigarette, Faulke's eyes looked over his hastily-assembled defense team. A half-dozen Army grunts, America's best and bravest boys that were nonetheless metaphorically (and maybe literally) pissing themselves with fear. A handful of visiting officers and soldiers from America's allies around the world, including a pair of Scottish twins, two British World War 2 Veterans, a Spanish Interpol agent, and an Austrian field medic with some god-awfully-long last name. Squad Leader Angela Weaver on his left, keeping her finger on the trigger of her trusty rifle, ready to put an ounce or two of lead between the eyes of anyone who so much as coughed. And relatively new Engineering Agent James McKinney on his right, gripping his shotgun like it was a lifeline, eyes darting wildly around and jumping at every noise.

Were _these_ the men with which he was supposed to save the world?

He could only hope so, because this might be all they get.

The sound of an elevator approaching made everyone's guns in the room point at the new source of noise. A tense moment went by as no one was sure what to expect until a voice crackled from Kinney's receiver.

_"This is Agent William Carter, Second Class, CIA, reporting as ordered. Now can I open the door without getting shot? I could use some answers."_

The reaction was...mixed. Some let out a sigh of relief, while others groaned. Myron, however, just nodded.

"Stand down, soldiers. Let's give them a proper welcome. Briggs? Get the door for our guests."

One of the British veterans grumbled about 'rolling out the red carpet for Americans again", but nonetheless went over and pulled the door open with a heave. Two well-dressed men in sharp suits, one wearing a dark gray hat, stepped out of the elevator. Kinney's eyes lit up when he saw Nils step out, while Weaver rolled her eyes as Carter tipped his hat towards the director.

The last person to step out definitely got everyone's attention.

A woman in a bloodied officer's uniform walked out alongside Carter and Nils, with bare legs covered in scratches and scrapes and boots that looked a few kicks away from falling off entirely. Her short hair, black with dark-red tips, was kept in a loose bob, and her eyes were as silver as a mirror that had been polished to perfection. And as she fiddled with the rifle in her hands, she slowly became aware of everyone staring at her, murmuring quietly under their breath.

"Who's that? Another one of ours?"

"Never seen her before. Did she transfer?"

"Holy _shit_, that's a pair of legs."

Faulke saw Kinney turn to Weaver, eyes wide open. "She's got a gun? Is she an agent, like you?"

Weaver scowled. "There _are_ no other agents like me, Kinney."

The young engineer nodded. "If you say so. She sure is pretty, though…"

Faulke was the one to break up the rumor mill with a loud cough. "Agent Nils, good to see you alive. Agent Carter - you and your 'friend' come over here. We need to talk."

Nils saluted and headed over to a cache of ammo and weapons, filling up his rifle and pistol while he had the chance. Carter and the woman pushed past the rest of the soldiers, standing across the table from Faulke, Weaver, and Kinney.

"No doubt you have a lot of questions," said the Director, "And I'll answer them as best I can. But first things first. The artifact that you were supposed to deliver - do you have it?"

Carter and the woman exchanged a glance. Faulke raised an eyebrow, and was about to speak again when Carter spoke up.

"It was...destroyed in the fighting, sir. Just before the attack, I was ambushed by the officer sent as an escort. When I came to, the officer was dead and the artifact was gone."

Weaver raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess - the officer had black fluid running down their face, their eyes went red, and they tried to murder the first thing they got their hands on?"

Carter blinked in surprise. "Yeah...pretty much."

The woman with short-cropped brown hair and a stern face nodded, before casting her steely gaze onto Carter's current 'escort.' Faulke looked over the new woman quizzically as well, curiosity in his eyes. "And what about you?" he said, "Where do you fit into all this, miss…?"

Realizing she was being addressed directly, the silver-eyed stranger straightened up. "My name is Summer Rose, sir, and I can confirm the validity of Carter's description. I was there with him when he was attacked. I...actually saved him, sir."

Carter groaned. Faulke hummed thoughtfully. Kinney seemed intrigued.

Weaver didn't seem so fascinated by this "summer rose." She pulled out her pistol and aimed it at the stranger, whose hand reached for her own pistol but grasped empty air. A look of embarrassment, not fear, shot across Summer's face, before she stared down the barrel of the gun seemingly unafraid.

"Where are you from? What unit did you serve with? What was your business at the Groom Range? When did - "

"Weaver," said Faulke, raising his hand. "Give her a chance to answer the questions before you fire off more of them."

Summer nodded. "The first thing I can remember is waking up in a bed that was not my own, in a place that was unfamiliar to me. I saw Agent Carter when I woke up, and a few minutes later he was attacked by the officer. A few moments after that, we were attacked. I know nothing about our enemy, this place, or who I was or where I came from before I awoke a few hours ago. I'm aware of how suspicious and unlikely it sounds, but it's the only explanation I have for why I'm here."

No dilated pupils. No nervous tics. This woman was either extremely good at lying, or was actually telling the truth. The director adjusted his glasses for a moment, taking another draft of his calming cigarette. It was Kinney who spoke up first, surprisingly enough.

"Sir? If I may…could it be possible that her lack of memories are from amnesia? Possibly induced by the…'artifact'?"

Summer tilted her head. "...amnesia?"

"Memory loss. Get hit in the head in the wrong spot, and you can end up forgetting five, ten, maybe even twenty years of your life. Depends on how bad it is."

The mysterious woman nodded. "...amnesia. That...makes a great deal of sense."

"I could believe that," added Carter, "considering I woke up with some kind of healing ability."

Now Faulke was extremely curious. "Healing?"

The hatted agent nodded. "When I woke up, the bullet hole the officer gave me had completely healed. And just a few moments ago, when Nils went down under enemy fire, I just touched him and healed him. We'd both be dead in either case."

Faulke hummed thoughtfully. "Interesting. Very interesting. We'll have to run some tests when we get back to the lab."

Summer seemed to find that answer satisfactory. Carter, however, grimaced. "With respect, sir, my assignment here is temporary. Under the circumstances, I should report immediately to Director Frost and -"

"We have to assume that the Director of Central Intelligence is dead," said Weaver stoically. "Unless you happened to run into him on your way here, you're looking at every last living person in Groom Range right now."

Carter cursed under his breath. Summer gazed around mournfully, shaking her head at something. Faulke raised an eyebrow at his second-in-command, but said nothing. Weaver wasn't exactly known for her kind and nurturing disposition.

"Alright… so what happens now?" asked Carter after a moment to process the news. "We can't exactly stay here, can we?"

Faulke shook his head. "Protocols dictate that, should something happen to Frost, you'd work for me. Now that that's come to pass, I'm going to need everyone's help in securing the research, samples, and materials we've collected here. Without that information, we won't have a chance."

"We've got a couple APCs in the Subterranean Garage fueled up and ready to go," said Kinney, "Just need to finish loading up all the cargo. Shouldn't take too long if everyone helps."

"First day on the job and I'm already stuck with babysitting and heavy lifting," grumbled Carter. Faulke pretended not to notice as he continued issuing orders.

"Carter, you and Nils take a few minutes to restock and rest up, then help the rest of the soldiers in packing everything up. Weaver, you and your squad find Barnes and the Skyranger and make sure they're both ready to fly. And as for you…"

The bespectacled man cast his gaze on Summer, who stared back at him with a raised eyebrow._ Silver eyes,_ he thought to himself, _how...unusual._

"You seem to have some familiarity with Agent Carter and Nils," he finished after a tense moment. "Stay with them for now, and we'll try to find out more about you when everyone's safe and sound."

For a moment, the woman looked like she wasn't sure if she should be relieved or disappointed. Regardless, she nodded and stepped back.

"We need to travel light, people," finished Faulke as he addressed the room. "Essentials only, classified documents and materials take top priority. I want everything gone from this facility within an hour. You have your orders - move out."

As the soldiers filed out into groups to do their assigned duty, Faulke took one last whiff of his cigarette before casting it into a nearby garbage can.

It wasn't the worst day of Myron Faulke's life.

But it was definitely up there.

* * *

The next half-hour was a bustle of activity. While a handful of soldiers started the engines of what Summer could only describe as boxes with caterpillar tracks, she, Carter, and Nils helped some man named Kinney load up boxes of papers, loose metallic sheets, and crates containing strange amber crystals onto said vehicles. Most of the work was done in silence, though a few conversations rang out here and there. Given the devastation that had happened just moments earlier, no one really seemed to be in the mood for small talk.

Summer watched as Kinney tried and failed to lift a rather large metallic box, chuckling as she walked over to him. "Need a hand with that?"

Kinney panted and shook his head. "Not unless you can lift about eighty pounds from rest. I'll flag down the Mucallin twins, see if they can -!"

With a grunt of exertion, Summer grabbed the handles of the crate and hoisted it up into the air, bouncing it off her bare knee to get a better grip on it. With a somewhat strained smile, she hefted it onto the nearby hand cart, clapping the dust off her hands as she stood back up.

"Well, Miss Rose, you're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"So I've heard," said Summer as she stretched, reading off the label of the crate she had just conquered. "What is this 'elerium' stuff anyways?"

Nearby, Nils cleared his throat. "Um, I don't think you're cleared for that info -"

"I don't think it matters anymore," grumbled Carter as he stuffed a box full of documents into the Recon Agent's arms.

"Right, well…" said Nils as he watched Carter move to another pile of loose papers, "...we found it a couple of years ago. Didn't take long to figure out that it's an extra-terrestrial element - some kind of space rock."

Summer hummed thoughtfully. "I see. Does it have any strange properties?"

"You kidding?" Nils chuckled. "I'm no scientist, but I've talked to the techs. They think this stuff is Elvis and the second coming all rolled into one."

"We were using it for all kinds of stuff," added Kinney as he collected a few more strange metallic samples and deposited it into a bin. "Reactors, munitions, pretty much everything you can think of. Some of the things I worked on - it was just like out of one of those old Captain Thunderclap serials."

Elvis? Captain Thunderclap? And the second coming of what? Summer had more questions, but chose to save those. "How much of it is there?"

"Most of it's still in the elerium mine over in Bannack, but some of it was shipped here for study," finished Nils as he added his box to the cart. "Can't be a coincidence that these freaks would attack the only elerium lab on Earth."

"We're not the only place that's been hit, either."

Everyone turned to see Faulke standing there, glasses reflecting the dim light in the room. He had a box in his hands, and was in the process of grabbing several large books and placing them carefully inside a small box like they were priceless treasures.

Kinney chuckled. "Never thought I'd see the day when the great Director Faulke got down and dirty with the rest of us."

Faulke gave a small smile and nod in return. "I've always believed in leading by example, Agent Kinney. In any other circumstances, I'd be out there trading fire with the enemy right alongside you. But someone needs to coordinate the defense of the entire nation, and I don't exactly see anyone else volunteering."

"Entire nation, sir?" asked Carter warily. "What about the President? The National Guard? The UN?"

"Uncertain," said Faulke as he closed up his box, his smile vanishing. "There's been a nation-wide communications blackout for the past several hours now." With a sigh, he added, "I'm working under the assumption that Washington has been hit."

Summer might not have understood what Washington was, but the somber expressions on both Kinney and Nils spoke volumes about the situation. Even Carter seemed a bit shaken. "How can you be sure about that?"

"I can't, Carter," explained Faulke wearily. "But the only thing that's been coming from the radio has been silence. For now, we have to assume the worst."

A short silence followed as boxes were packed and loaded onto the hand cart, and eventually the group made their way out of the now-emptied room and into the hallway. Summer finally decided to be the one to break it.

"So...what do we know about these things? What are they?"

Faulke blinked a bit, raising an eyebrow as he pushed the cart. "We've theorized about these 'Outsiders' for some time now, but this is our first confirmed contact with an extraterrestrial species."

"First time meeting aliens," grumbled Carter, "And so far it's gone just great, hasn't it?"

"We were hoping to learn more from that artifact you lost," said Faulke without batting an eye. "But now? Well...we've got no shortage of material to study."

"We grabbed some of the weapons and gear they were using upstairs," said Nils, "Hopefully it helps."

"I'm sure it will, Nils. Good thinking."

"I just want to know one thing," growled Carter, "How to get rid of them."

"You and me both, Carter," sighed Faulke. "You and me both."

Summer just walked alongside the men, pondering and thinking. _So these people have never encountered aliens before...and now they're fighting a war against an invasion from something completely unfamiliar to them, something that wants them destroyed. I guess I probably shouldn't tell them that I'm a Huntress from another world who died on a suicide mission and woke up on this planet...Earth, was it? Yeah...telling them I'm from Remnant is gonna go real well._

A powerful tremor shook the entire hallway, knocking Summer out of her thoughts as well knocking around everything else.

_"Uh, Director Faulke? We might have a problem."_

Faulke pulled his two-way receiver off his hip. "Agent Fowler, report."

_"You know those big ball-like things that we couldn't figure out what they did? Well, uh...they just grew."_

The director raised an eyebrow. "Agent Fowler, please confirm. They just grew?"

_"They sure as hell did, just doubled in size right as I was looking at them. It looks like they're setting up some kind of base camp here, but - oh shit! They saw us!"_

"Agent Fowler, pull back! Do not engage, repeat, do not engage -"

The only answer the director received was static. Summer saw Faulke's face tense up for a fraction of a second, before he started stoically pushing the cart again.

"Sir?" asked Nils with a raised eyebrow as he and the rest of the soldiers followed.

"They're trying to secure a foothold here," said Faulke in an emotionless tone, "Standard occupation procedures. Find a key spot, demolish any resistance in the area, set up a base of operations to expand from. This is the start of an invasion, men - and I won't let them start it here. Not after what they've already done here."

He stopped pushing the cart, turning to the men. "There's a rail platform down at the end of the east hallway. Go there, and take the diesel sub-tram as far as it can go. It should take you to a testing site...where we were testing elerium-powered nuclear bombs."

Carter seemed to be one step ahead of Faulke. "You want us to start the test, right?"

The director nodded. "The raw destructive power of just one elerium bomb makes the Mark 27 look like a firecracker on a rainy day. We currently have over a dozen of them stored in secure locations throughout this facility. All we need is a handful of them going off, and the entire range is purged in nuclear fire. It's the only way to keep these Outsiders from establishing a foothold in this area."

"And to get some payback," muttered Nils. Then he looked up. "But wouldn't we be right in the center of that explosion?"

"The Skyranger One's the fastest thing we've got in the sky. It can clear the blast radius after picking you up for evac. We'll get you out of there - if you can buy us enough time."

"I doubt these Outsiders are going to just let us blow up their new base," added Kinney.

"You'll be out-manned and outgunned," acknowledged Faulke, "but you're the only ones equipped to even try something like this at the moment. We need everyone else for the evacuation effort - without those men and that research, we're done for."

"I'm guessing that threatening to set off a super weapon is gonna get more attention than a couple of trucks."

"That's what I'm hoping too, Carter. Now...Miss Rose, was it? Come with me, we need to get this on the trucks and get the convoy going. Carter, Nils, Kinney? You have your orders. Get out there, start the test, and stand your ground. We'll get you out of there before the bomb goes off. Good luck, and Vigilo Confido."

Carter tipped his hat first at Faulke, then at Summer. Thomas gave a quick salute, while Kinney gave a nervous wave. Then all three of them took off, disappearing around the corner.

Summer watched them go, thoughts racing in her mind. Those men - good men - were willingly throwing their lives away on what was almost certainly a suicide mission. Part of her wanted to condemn them for throwing their lives away...but she realized she had no reason to judge them. After all...hadn't she left behind her world to try to save it? Hadn't she abandoned her family to give them a chance to live in a world without Salem?

Her hands balled into fists. Maybe that was why she was here. To stop others from making the same choice she had made. If good people were going to throw themselves into the fire...she would make sure they came out the other side.

Summer turned to Faulke, determination in her eyes. "I'm going with them."

The director raised an eyebrow, but said nothing to oppose her or try to change her mind. Instead, he just nodded and pulled out his two-way radio.

"Agent Carter, be advised: Agent Rose is joining you."

_"...Agent? She works for you?"_

"She does now," said Faulke, "keep each other safe, and good luck out there. Over and out."

Mimicking the salute that she saw Nils do, Summer Rose darted down the hall, clutching her rifle to keep it from bouncing against her hip.

Even without her Aura, she was still a Huntress.

* * *

"Welcome to the rail platform. Our ride is just up ahead. Not much to look at, I know, but at least it works. Usually."

Carter sighed as he and Nils followed Kinney into a rundown-looking, sorry excuse for a diesel train, with faded paint and hooked up to flatbed trucks that looked about twenty years newer than the locomotive. The engineer immediately went to the cabin and started pulling levers and pushing buttons, while the other two agents took a look around.

_"This is Director Faulke, broadcasting to all remaining Groom Range forces. Tune your frequencies to 102.1. We're mobilizing and getting ready to move out in less than a minute."_

The gray-hatted man fiddled with the radio receiver until a wide variety of voices came through the speaker.

"Hook that up to the tram's speaker," said Nils, "so we can all listen."

Carter did that, just as a woman with a rifle slung across her shoulders came sprinting and leaping over the gate separating the train from the platform. She rolled and landed on her feet, a determined glint in her eyes.

"Sorry I'm late," said Summer, "Had to trim my nails first."

Nils raised an eyebrow, before sighing. Kinney blinked at Summer's arrival, before he started working on getting the tram started again. Carter just rolled his eyes and spoke into the radio, which was currently hooked up to the diesel locomotive's onboard PA.

"Director Faulke, this is Agent Carter. Rose just arrived."

_"Copy that, Agent Carter. Go ahead and deploy. Good luck."_

With a hiss and a groan, the massive diesel locomotive lurched forward, carrying around twenty tons of steel and lumber behind it. Summer and Nils held to the railing of the front car, while Kinney and Carter kept an eye on the engine and the gauges. And as the tram rumbled down the tracks, the chatter of the rest of the survivors filled the cabin with static, crackling voices.

_"Motor Teams, sound off."_

_"Motor-One Driver, Andrew Harper, checking in." _

_"Motor-One Gunner, Tyler Duren, locked and loaded."_

_"Motor-Two Driver, Edward Briggs, ready to roll out."_

_"Motor-Two Gunner, Jordan Loveday, all set. Just like old times, eh Briggs?"_

_"Motor-Three Driver, Adam Goldstein, engine running hot."_

_"Motor-Three Gunner, Richard Holt, ready to bring the rain."_

_"Motor-Four Driver, Knox Dolan, reporting in."_

_"Motor-Four Gunner, Raymond Shen, ready to engage."_

_"Skyranger-One, Leon Barnes, ready to fly."_

_"Good. Motors One through Four, be advised that your APCs have been loaded with prototype elerium-based rounds. Use them only if necessary - our supply is extremely limited."_

_"Roger that, Director. Gunners One and Three, stick to flak rounds for now. Gunners Two and Four, prep the special ammo, but hold fire until I give the order."_

_"Acknowledged, Driver One. Switching now."_

_"Additionally, Agent Carter and his team are going to set off an elerium nuclear warhead at the testing facility. This will set off a chain reaction that should destroy -"_

_"Hang on just a bloody moment. You're detonating a fucking nuke?"_

_"Yes, Driver Two. Is there a problem?"_

_"...no sir."_ Under his breath, Carter could hear Briggs mutter something about "typical american strategy."

_"Then Drivers, get ready to move on Driver-One's order. Driver-One? Whenever you're ready."_

_"Copy that. Alright Motors, move out!"_

Carter watched as the train slowly picked up speed, nodding to Kinney and signaling him to keep an eye on the controls. He walked out of the cabin to see Nils vigilantly guarding the left side of the train, sweeping his sniper rifle and watching for activity. On the right, the woman known as Summer Rose gripped the safety railing tightly, watching the scenery as it passed them by.

With a sigh, William went and joined her, leaning on the railing next to the woman. "So...amnesia, huh?"

Summer nodded tersely. "Seems that way."

"You don't remember anything at all?"

"Just bits and pieces," she replied, almost wistfully, "Memories of me playing with friends when I was younger, attending classes, learning from my parents. But I can't place where or when those memories were. It's like someone took a photograph and tore it up, scattering the pieces to the wind and leaving only the corners behind. Even if I had the pieces, I'm not sure if I'd be able to put them back together."

"Never had much patience for those jigsaw puzzles myself," grumbled Carter as he pulled out a cigarette and a gold-plated lighter, lighting it and drawing a whiff of that bitter, acrid smoke in one smooth motion. When Summer looked at him with an eyebrow raised in curiosity, the man chuckled. "Want a smoke? Might help jog your memory."

"A...smoke?"

Carter sighed, pulling out another cig and lighting it, offering it to Summer. "Yeah. You know, to calm the nerves? Blow off some steam? Give it a try. It can't hurt."

The silver-eyed woman looked at the offered stick warily, before taking it and mimicking what Carter did. She had barely taken half a whiff before coughing and wheezing, smoke pouring out her nose and mouth as she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Guess that's a 'no' to you being a smoker, then," said Carter with a smirk.

"I'd certainly remember something like _that_," coughed Summer, holding the cigarette at a distance and waving the smoke away. "Here, you can take it back."

Carter shook his head, still smirking. "Hey, it's been in your mouth, I don't want it either. Just toss it over the side."

"That's allowed?"

"Usually not. But I have a feeling it's not gonna matter much here anymore."

Summer shrugged and pitched the cigarette into the rapidly passing scenery, watching as it tumbled end over end and landed a hundred feet away. Carter raised an eyebrow at the display of strength - it seemed this woman could make any action look superhuman, no matter how mundane.

"Whoever you were, you must've been a serious athlete. Or some kind of super soldier."

"Couldn't tell you one way or another," said Summer with another shrug. "Just wish I could remember…"

"Maybe it's better this way," mumbled Carter as he took another whiff of his cigarette. Before Summer could ask what he meant, the speakers blared to life with radio chatter again.

_"Shit! Those damn flyers are back, and they're coming in hot!"_

_"Spread out! Ten yard spacing! Don't let them get a bead on - AAAUGH!"_

_"Motor-One! Respond!"_

_"Motor-Two Driver here, director. Motor-One's just a burning wreck by the side of the road."_

A brief, tense silence hung over the radio. Carter swore under his breath. Finally, Faulke's voice came over the comms.

_"...understood, Motor-Two. Do whatever you need to do to get out of there."_

_"Roger that! Split up! Hit the side roads! There's three of us, and only two of them! It can't come after all of us! Gunners Two and Four, hold fire until you get a clean shot!"_

As the tram chugged along, the four agents waited with baited breath, listening for news about a battle they had no control over.

_"Gunner Four here, got a flyer on our tail! I think I've got a clear shot!"_

_"Not yet you don't, kid. Gimmie five seconds, tracking?"_

_"But sir-!"_

_"Five goddamn seconds, slant! Wait till we're clear of the trees…now! Fire!"_

_"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!"_

_Summer covered her mouth as the radio again went quiet, a loud booming in the background._

_"Motor Four?"_

_"We're okay, Director. Target neutralized, heading for rendezvous now. Those elerium rounds worked like a trick."_

_"Next time, keep your eyes open when shooting, slant."_

_"...the fuck did you call me?"_

_"Oh, you don't like that? Would you prefer if I called you a go-"_

_"Sergeant Dolan, that kind of talk on a public channel is to cease immediately. Do I make myself clear?"_

_"...yes sir. Tracking."_

Summer raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

_"Motors Two and Three, status?"_

_"Managed to lose ours, sir. Gunner Two got a grazing hit and took out its guns, but it pulled away before he could finish it off."_

_"Which is bollocks, I tell you. Pardon my language."_

_"Motor Three, in the clear. A few miles out from the -OH SHIT!"_

_"Motor Three!"_

_"Flyer just dropped a Sectoid on us! Hang on!"_

"Sectoid?" asked Summer, raising an eyebrow. "What's a Sectoid?"

Kinney shrugged. "It's what we've been calling those little gray things. The ones with those huge eyes and big heads. It seems the Outsiders keep them as slaves...or pets, even."

"They might be small, but they're still pretty dangerous," said Nils, rolling his shoulder. "Still nursing a bruise from when one of them grazed me with those lasers."

Carter frowned. Outsiders and Sectoids...why were they here? What did they want?

And why did he feel like that artifact was the answer to both of those questions?

The sounds of fighting and gunshots going off killed the conversation. The men and the woman waited anxiously, listening for some kind of news. Eventually, the whining roar of some kind of heavy weapon filled the air, followed by a loud whoop.

_"Haha, got 'em that time! It's just like Normandy all over again, eh Briggs?"_

_"You and I remember Normandy very differently, Loveday. Motor-Three, you alright?"_

_"More or less. Sectoid blew our gunner's head off and tried to climb inside, but Massey and the twins managed to pin it down and kick it to death. Thanks for the assist, Motor-Two."_

_"Cheers, Three. Fours? How are you doi-"_

The signal suddenly disappeared in a haze of static, making Summer clamp her hands over her ears. Kinney unplugged the two-way radio, handing it back to Carter.

"Sounds like we just hit the max range on these things," said the Engineer. "Still...that's gotta be, what? Forty miles? Fifty? Impressive."

"Yeah…'impressive'," grumbled Carter as he clipped the box back on his belt, "Maybe for the 40's. But compared to flying spaceships and goddamn death lasers, this thing might as well be a toy."

Kinney looked down. Summer went back to staring out at the passing scenery. Nils took a moment to readjust the sights on his rifle.

The rest of the trip was made in silence.

* * *

The tram pulled up alongside a large, tall platform made of concrete and steel. Several large shipping containers lined the right side of the platform, while a mechanical winch hung off the left side next to some hastily-assembled steel scaffolding. Barebones stairs and columns supported elevated platforms with bar-grated floors, ultimately leading up to an observation deck with a radio array and a thick concrete bunker. Other elevated platforms and mezzanines with stairs and ladders dotted the structure, and in the center of the site on the north end was a trio of large, well-worn cranes.

Of course, the first thing that Summer noticed was exactly what each crane was holding - a very large, very dangerous-looking tear-shaped bomb. The sheer size of it made the munitions of Atlas - the most powerful military force in Remnant - look like water balloons and small rocks in comparison.

Noticing how the woman stared at the weapons of mass destruction, Kinney spoke up. "Don't worry. Those things are designed to be dropped from airplanes, so they'll only explode if something hits the blasting cap - that's that tip thing on the end there. Long as we watch our shots, we should be fine - until it goes off as part of the test, of course."

Summer nodded. "I see. And how big of an explosion are we talking if it does?"

"Just one of those things was enough to level Hiroshima," said Nils, "and we're dropping three of them. If we're still on this platform when they go off...at least the deaths would be pretty painless."

"That's comforting," grumbled Carter.

"Is it?" asked Summer, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course it isn't. Kinney, you know how to start this thing, right?"

"Yes sir, went through the safety training and everythi-"

"Good. Head up to the platform and hit the button. I trust you to know which one. Nils, take that high-rise in the southeast corner. Rose, with me, we're on point."

"Understood."

"Moving."

Summer nodded tersely as she pulled the rifle (the "M14", as the boys had called it) off her back, crouching behind a stack of boxes overlooking the left side of a landing pad. Carter hunkered down and watched the right side, while Nils climbed a ladder up to a higher platform before going prone, watching through the scope for movement. Kinney went up a set of stairs, pulled a few switches and hit a few buttons before the cranes hummed to life, a deep alarm reverberating through the cold night air.

_"Test commencing in fifteen minutes,"_ came Kinney's voice over the comm device on Summer's hip. _"Where do you want me now, Carter? I've got a few landmines I can set up around the perimeter, give our guests a little 'welcoming package.'"_

"Do it. Nils, keep an eye on the skies. I'll signal Faulke."

While the engineer went about setting down smooth silvery discs on the edges of the platform, Carter pulled out his two-way and growled into it.

"Faulke, if you can hear me, the tests are live. Bombs are ready to blow in fifteen minutes."

A deep voice that was not the director's replied. _"Solid copy, Carter. Skyranger One inbound. Be advised: hostile ships are converging on your position. You'll have to take care of whatever they drop off before we can risk picking you up."_

"Understood, Skyranger. Carter out." To Summer, he grumbled, "At least we have their attention…" to which the displaced Huntress could only nod.

Just like Skyranger had warned, a half-dozen ships hovered in the night sky like alien obelisks, each one dropping off two squads of Outsiders and Sectoids around the edges. The engineer's landmines took care of four of the squads outright, gravely wounding three others and letting the rest of the agents mop them up with crossfire and sniper rounds. Kinney's shotgun barked in the night as it tore apart Outsider chests and Sectoid heads, Carter's frag grenades blew apart squads that made the mistake of bunching up, Summer's bursts of concentrated fire kept the alien attackers either on the move or in cover, and Nils was always quick to put a bullet through the brain of whatever the other three couldn't finish off.

The concrete and steel soon became slick with alien blood and viscera, and the cold night air reeked of ozone and rotting otherworldly flesh. Minute by minute, squad by squad, kill by kill, Carter, Summer, Nils, and Kinney held the line as the alarm blared out the time to detonation. First it was thirteen minutes. Then it was twelve. Then eleven, then nine, then eight…

"Skyranger!" growled Carter, "What's your status?"

_"We have a visual on the test platform, Carter. It looks like these Outsiders are running out of reserves. Finish off that last squad, and we should be alright to land."_

Summer let out a small sigh of relief as she put a fistful of lead into an Outsider getting too close for comfort. Soon, they'd be out of here. Soon, they'd all be safe.

It all seemed to be going according to plan.

And then…

_"Agh! Dammit! No!"_

Summer's blood froze as she saw Kinney's cover get shredded by dozens of laser bolts, as the squadron of Outsiders focused fire on the engineer. With a loud cry of agony, his body was sent flying against the concrete wall behind him, slowly sinking to the floor.

"Kinney!" growled Carter, "Kinney, life check!"

_"It hurts...dammit, it hurts…"_

"Hang in there soldier! I'm on my way to - "

"CARTER WATCH OUT!"

Summer barely had time to scream as she tackled the Agent to the floor, narrowly avoiding the renewed bursts of superheated light as the Outsiders redoubled their suppression efforts. They seemed to be aware of Carter's strange healing powers, and chose to keep their focus on the Squad Leader to keep him away from his wounded trooper. There was really no need to go over and finish off the engineer - if he wasn't dead already from the sheer number of wounds in such a short time, he soon would be.

Carter groaned as he and Summer crawled on their hands and knees behind another low wall, the swarm of lasers seemingly following their every move. Red lances of energy struck the concrete and stone again and again, whittling a little more of it away with every blow.

"Nils!" barked Carter, "Need some fire support down here, stat!"

_"No joy, Carter! Grays have me pinned down!"_

Sure enough, Summer saw a trio of Sectoids crawl up onto a higher platform, showering the recon's position in red death. His prone form kept him safe for the moment, but he was unable to fire back - every time his barrel tried to poke out from the edge, it would be beaten back by another laser bolt.

Another solid inch of Carter and Summer's cover disappeared in a cloud of dust and smoke. Their time was running out.

"Carter! Do you have any grenades left?"

"Just the one! But I can't aim it without getting torn apart!"

Summer cursed, looking around for something, anything that she could use.

That's when she noticed a long metal pole strewn among the debris of the battlefield, one that seemed remarkably fit to use as an improvised polearm. It even had a sharpened edge, too, and there was even a mechanical winch close enough to the edge of their platform that she could probably…

An idea formed in her head.

"Carter!" she commanded, "On the count of three, I need you to throw that grenade at the Outsiders! Then - "

"I told you I can't aim it without -"

_"Then don't aim it! Just throw it!"_ She pulled her M14 off her back and shoved it towards Carter. "Once it goes off, stand up and give these assholes everything in both these mags! When I give the signal, cease firing and get Kinney back on his feet immediately!"

"What signal?"

"You'll know it when you see it! One!"

"You're damn crazy, woman!"

"Two!"

"This better work!"

"THREE!"

With a growl of frustration, Carter yanked the pin out of the frag and tossed it blindly over their rapidly-diminishing cover. The grenade bounced across the ground for a few feet before exploding into shrapnel, creating a loud boom but barely grazing the squadron of Outsiders. As soon as the explosion resounded, Summer darted to the left, scooping up the sharpened pole in one hand and snagging the winch hook with the other.

_"Rose! The hell are you -"_

"Improvising!" she shouted as she sprinted across the narrow platform. When she reached the edge, she used the safety rail as a vaulting point to dive off the edge of the test site. The wind whipped past her hair as she plummeted in a free fall, the winch cable trailing behind her.

_"SUMMER!"_

"SHOOT THEM NOW, CARTER!"

The safety lock on the winch kicked in, pulling taut on the hook and snapping the cable backwards. Summer groaned as the momentum from her dive flowed into a sweeping (and painful) swing, pumping her legs at just the right moment to boost her angular velocity. With a combination of grace and grit, she swung up behind the trio of Sectoids suppressing Nils, planting her feet against the skull of one of them and kicking it clear off the platform and into the valley below. The other two Sectoids chittered angrily at Summer's sudden appearance, but a pole smashing against one skull and a sharpened edge skewering the other through the eye cut their screams short.

Out of the corner of her eye, Summer saw Carter rise from his cover, rifles in both hands as he aimed in the general direction of the Outsiders and fired, heat blazing from both weapons as he struggled to keep his arms somewhat steady. The alien troops weren't sure which crazy human was more demanding of their attention - the growling man that was firing dual M14s at them, or the woman that had swung through the air like the world's deadliest trapeze artist. So stunned were they, that they even forgot to fire - and that mistake cost them dearly.

With a feral scream, Summer launched herself from the higher ground, bringing her improvised polearm crashing down onto the skull of an Outsider as her feet hit the ground. Not staying still for even a second, she flowed into a spinning swing that struck the neck of another outsider, breaking it instantly. A low sweep shattered the kneecaps of a third, and a solid jab to the torso sent a fourth one stumbling over the edge and into the darkness below. A quick flurry of blows struck another one, then another fell to her mad melee rush, as she tore through the Outsiders with nothing but a metal pole and the skill of a Huntress.

_"...holy shit,"_ breathed Nils.

_"Making my way to Kinney now! Keep them occupied!"_

While Carter darted over towards the fallen engineer, Summer grinned as she continued her melee assault. Some of the Outsiders had started shooting again, but she managed to avoid the brunt of it as she seemingly flowed around their shots, knocking weapons out of their hands and knocking teeth out of their skulls. But over time, fatigue and laser burns began to catch up with the Huntress, and her strikes became weaker, her movements became slower, and her reflexes began to falter. The remaining Outsiders backpedaled out of melee range as she collapsed to the ground, the bloodied and dented pole falling out of her hands and rolling off the edge of the platform.

"Heh...guess I'm...zero for two when it comes to...last stands…" she panted as she saw the Outsiders take aim with their laser rifles…

_CRACK!_

The sound of a sniper round being fired filled the air as the lead Outsider's neck was suddenly filled with lead and blood, falling to its knees as it choked on its own fluids. The other alien troops turned to fire on the source, only to find a bullet lodged in their throats.

_"I've got your back, Miss Rose!"_

_"And so do we!"_

Summer's heart leapt as Kinney's voice rang through the mike, just as she saw a silvery disc flying through the air. She rolled back towards the center of the platform as the mine detonated, sending golden flames and blue alien blood splattering in all directions. The last Outsider, coughing and wheezing, stumbled out of the smoke and aimed a laser rifle at Summer Rose, only to find Carter's fist smash into its jaw with a powerful uppercut, knocking it onto its back and priming it for two quick pistol rounds right through the skull.

The battle, at long last, was over.

_"Detonation in three minutes."_

Walking over first to retrieve his hat (which had been knocked off in the fighting), Carter then stowed his pistol and walked over to Summer, extending a hand meaningfully. She took it generously, feeling a surge of warmth and relief seep through her bones and muscle as the man's mysterious healing touch took effect. Within a moment, she was back on her feet, standing exhaustedly, but standing nonetheless.

"Skyranger, this is Carter. Landing pad is clear. Come and get us the hell outta here, would you?"

_"Coming in for a landing now! Gotta say, I have seen some crazy stuff in my life...but I've never seen anything like that…"_

"Yeah, no kidding," said Nils as he and Kinney grouped back up with Carter and Summer, "That was one hell of a clutch play there, Miss Rose. Who the hell are you?"

"That's a very good question," said Summer, feeling only a tiny bit bad about lying at this point, "I wish I had an answer for you right now."

"Well, I've got one."

Kinney stepped forward, extending a hand to Summer. "You're the woman that came up with the plan to save my dumb ass. So thank you. You ever get the itch to do field work, you can join DaSilva's crew anytime."

Summer wanted to ask who or what "DaSilva" was, but at that moment, a massive helicopter-like craft with a massive rotor, a bulbous forward-facing cockpit, and twin jet engines on the back descended. The back of it slid open, revealing Director Faulke and Angela Weaver already seated and buckled in, waiting for the agents to board.

Once everyone was in, the Skyranger set off just as quickly as it had landed, seconds before the test site, the remaining Outsider ships, and everything else in the Groom Range was purged in nuclear fire.

The world would never know what happened on that day. Not for a very long time.

But Summer would always remember it as her first day on Earth.


	5. Welcome To The Bureau

A/N: WOW! Wow, I did not expect this thing to get this much attention! Thank you to everyone who's followed, favorited, and left reviews on the story so far, and I'm sorry this one took so long to get out! It occurred to me shortly after publishing The Nuclear Option that I should proooobably have an idea of where I want this story to go and how to get there, so that's what took up most of the time between last chapter and this one. But now that I know where we're going, it shouldn't take so long to get to the next chapter! Assuming I don't get distracted...or bored...or end up dead in a ditch somewhere...pretty even chance it could end up being any of them. Or all of them.

For now, enjoy this chapter where we get introduced to the Bureau of Strategic Operations and Command! With special guests Taiyang Xiao Long and Qrow Branwen...

* * *

"I don't think she's coming back, Tai."

Qrow hadn't meant for those words to sound so resigned, so tired, so _empty._ But after seventy-two sleepless hours of standing on a cliffside overlooking a snowy valley, with nothing but a half-empty flask and a few granola bars to keep the hunger and the headache at bay, it was hard for him to put anything more meaningful into such a volatile phrase.

Sure enough, Taiyang Xiao Long broke his relentless, restless pacing, eyes as blue as the moonless night staring into the scraggy, scruffy Huntsman. "You don't know that. You don't mean that. She'll come back here any minute now. You'll see."

"Tai…" the young Branwen bandit-turned-Huntsman cradled his brow. "You've been saying that for the last ten hours. If she was coming back 'any minute', it would've happened by now. It hasn't so we can only assume -"

"Assume _what?!_" growled the blonde man, fiery tattoos glowing across his arms, casting a light in the darkness. "That Salem killed her? That she failed? That she's _gone?!_"

Taking a sip from his now-empty flask, Qrow shrugged. "I mean...it's either that, or she's stopping by the supermarket on the way back. But we both know which one's more likely."

The light from the tattoos faded, and the man began sobbing in the night. The darkness returned, and Qrow could only hear, not see, Taiyang's grief. True, he could have turned into a bird and gained the ability to see as though it was broad daylight, but Qrow didn't need to see his friend cry. He had already seen it a thousand times.

"...we should have gone with her."

"Tai…"

"Don't 'Tai' me! We could have helped her! We could have saved her! I could have protected her!"

"Salem would've seen your hotheaded ass coming a hundred miles away. Her semblance was the best bet for getting close enough to -"

"And you! You and Raven could have followed her! Made sure she got there okay! Made sure she came back and -"

"We turn into _birds_, you idiot, not _angels_. What were we supposed to do, fly over Salem and blind her with bird shi-"

"It would have been something! Maybe it would have helped! Maybe we could have -"

"Dammit, Tai, we're not having this conversation again. This was the only way it could have worked. You know it. I know it. She knew it. Ozpin said -"

"_To hell with that old man!_" roared Taiyang as he shattered a tree into splinters with his bare hand. "_He just killed the only person in my life that matters to me!_"

Qrow sucked in a breath through his teeth. There was...a _lot_ to unpack with that outburst. Sure, one could argue that the enigmatic Headmaster was at least partly at fault for coming to them years after graduation with an "important mission"...but right now, there was something else that needed addressing.

"...the 'only' person that matters?"

"Don't you dare…"

"What about Yang, huh? Does she not matter anymore?"

"Don't you _fucking _dare…"

"Or what about Raven? Or me? Or everyone in Patch that depends on you to keep them safe?"

"Qrow, I swear to the _fucking gods _if you don't _shut your goddamn bea-"_

_"Or what about Ruby? Does _she_ not matter anymore?"_

CRACK. Qrow immediately felt a fistful of pure muscle and Auric energy slam into the side of his jaw, sending him flying backwards into the forest (and thankfully not off the edge of the cliff). The grizzled Huntsman sighed in pain as he felt a newly-splintered tree trunk break his sudden flight, showering him in falling leaves and sharp woodchips. Thankfully, his injuries weren't serious - his own Aura absorbed most of the force, keeping his spine and all his squishy bits inside his skin. Keyword, of course, being "most."

Because it still hurt like _hell._

Reflexively, Qrow's hand went for Harbinger, ready to draw the scythe-concealed-as-a-sword to better defend himself. If his former teammate really did intend to fight him on Summer's favorite cliff, he wasn't about to just let himself become a maroon-colored punching bag. But Taiyang finally seemed cognizant of his actions, and the anger left as soon as it had come. Now, faintly outlined in the darkness, Qrow watched Taiyang slink back to the edge of the cliff.

"...I'm sorry. I just…"

"Yeah...I know…" With a sigh, Qrow released his weapon. "I know."

"Then...can you understand why I can't go back and tell them? Why I can't...be there for them?"

Oh no.

"Tai...I'm not their dad."

"You're their uncle. You're family, as far as they're concerned."

"To one of them, sure, but - "

"Qrow...please. I can't...they shouldn't have to witness daddy coming home without mommy. I can't do that to Yang again. And I can't do it to…"

With a pained groan, the avian Huntsman picked himself up, brushing a few splinters off his cape. "You can't stay out here forever, Tai. You have to come home eventually."

"I know. And I will. I just...need to find the words to say, first. I'll...I'll get you all the whiskey you want, if you do this. Just...please..."

Qrow sighed in resolve, before vanishing with a squawk and a flurry of black feathers as he soared into the night, heading back for the little house on the edge of the island of Patch.

Wherever Summer was now, Qrow hoped it was better than here.

* * *

"In visual range now, sir. Preparing final approach."

William Carter felt an elbow in his side, prompting him to tip the brim of his gray hat so it no longer covered his eyes. Next to him, the silver eyes of Summer Rose stared at him for a moment longer, before she looked out the bulbous canopy of the Skyranger as it soared across the barren landscape. John Kinney sat on the other side of Summer, rubbing his eyes as he stretched.

"Quick flight," he said groggily, "Did we catch a jet stream on the way here?"

Across from him, Thomas Nils chuckled. "Maybe the backblast from those bombs gave us a boost."

Angela Weaver sighed and rolled her eyes, while Myron Faulke just nodded to their pilot. "Bring us in, Barnes, nice and easy."

Leon Barnes nodded as he keyed his radio again. "Control, this is Skyranger-One, requesting permission to land."

A bored but relieved sounding voice answered the transmission. "_Copy, Skyranger. Permission granted. You are cleared for landing pad three."_

Carter watched as the futuristic-looking helicopter gradually descended down towards a military base with rounded aluminum-plated buildings and tall fences topped with barbed wire, a United States flag waving proudly on its mast. It seemed to be completely ordinary...until one of the landing pads opened up to reveal a yawning chasm into a tunnel of concrete and steel. The Skyranger gently touched down on a steel platform, which whirred and hummed as it descended along rails into the earth itself.

Summer tilted her head in fascination, while Carter just smirked. "Gonna take more than a hole in the ground to beat those things."

"Just admit it, you're impressed!" teased Nils, laughing softly at the utter delight on Kinney's face as they descended. Carter had to admit, part of him was impressed - not that he'd give Nils the satisfaction of knowing that, of course.

"So, um…" said Summer as she watched the tunnel swallow the world around them, "what is the Bureau, anyways?"

"Bureau of Strategic Operations and Command," answered Faulke brusquely, as if that explained everything.

"Never heard of it," said Carter with a shrug.

Faulke stared blankly. "You were never meant to."

Humming thoughtfully, Carter went back to watching the scenery pass them by. The bulk of the area surrounding their lift seemed to consist of a massive underground parking structure, full of workers unloading boxes from some battle-worn APCs. Forklifts moved around the structure, scientists and engineers took their relevant cargo to their areas of expertise, and medical personnel were there to escort wounded-looking soldiers to a series of elevators.

"Hey, check it out!" said Kinney as he pointed, "Looks like the rest of the convoy from Groom Range made it here!"

Sure enough, even from this distance, Carter could see the distinctive red hair of the so-called "Mucallin brothers", as well as the scruffy, slightly-slumped posture of the British World War II veterans. "You sure it's okay to let them walk around down here? I don't think we're on international soil here."

"This base wasn't meant to be fully operational for another year," explained Faulke. "We've called in every operative, engineer, and scientist we had earmarked for the project, but, well...let's just say that we'll be a bit understaffed. So I'll take whatever help we can get, wherever it comes from."

"And besides, they were already cleared for access to Groom Range and her facilities," added Nils, "Whatever they see here, odds are they were allowed to see it in Nevada."

Carter nodded. "Guess that makes sense. Still...guess they weren't ready for what they ended up seeing, huh?"

"None of us were," shot back Weaver. "Or at least, none of _you_ were."

With a sigh, he adjusted his hat and waited out the rest of the trip in silence. After a seemingly never-ending series of elevator rides and access lifts, the group finally arrived at yet another checkpoint. This one, instead of leading to yet another pig-iron corridor, led to a well-furnished office space that loomed just beyond the glass windows.

"Director Faulke, sir," said one of the guards with a stiff salute. "Welcome back."

Faulke nodded, then pointed to Weaver, Carter, and Summer. "These three are with me. Nils, Kinney, check in with the medical staff, and get yourselves debriefed. You know the procedures."

Summer blinked a few times. "They're...not coming with us?"

"What's wrong?" chuckled Nils, "You don't feel safe enough walking alongside the toughest sons-of-guns in the Bureau?"

"Regardless of how well they've...recovered," said Faulke cautiously, "the fact remains that they still took life-threatening injuries in the field. We need to make sure there are no long-term effects or lasting damage."

"It's a pretty small place, actually," said Nils, "I'm sure we'll run into each other again."

Kinney nodded, then turned to address Carter and Summer (but mostly the latter). "Guess this is where we part ways for now. See you on the field again!"

Then with a tight salute, the Engineer and the Recon operative split off from the group as the rest of them crossed a pair of double doors into the office area.

"At least this location is secure," murmured Carter as he saw a pair of M2 Brownings stationed at the checkpoint.

"And I intend to keep it that way," said Faulke. "I'll be giving a report to all staff at 0300. Report to the Operations Room at that time. I have a lot to prepare. Agent Weaver will show you and Rose around."

Weaver rolled her eyes, but nonetheless led Carter and Summer away from the Director as he went off on his own. The Senior Field Agent led them downstairs into hallways and rooms full of advanced-looking computers, sporting top-of-the-line magnetic film reels and radio antennae. Soldiers stood at attention with M14s and AK47s, communications workers sat hunched-over their consoles and paperwork, and technicians and workers pushed carts of supplies across the smooth stony floor.

"When Ivan put Sputnik up in the sky, the brass got real scared," said Weaver as she led her charges through the facility. "This project became top priority - off the books, of course."

Carter just looked around as they moved, sparing a glance at Summer as she seemed to regard the facility around her with an almost-bored expression. What did she think about all this? Was she in quiet awe, or was this nothing special to her? Compared to where she was from, were they just playing with Tinker Toys and 3-Tracks? Carter wasn't sure he wanted to find out...but at the same time, he wondered what he'd have given to read the enigmatic woman's mind for just a moment.

The trio eventually approached a large room with windows and concrete on all sides, rows and rows of consoles and filing cabinets lining the floors of the gymnasium-sized space. A single large projector hummed at the back of the room, trying to shine an image on the massive wall-to-wall blank screen at the front.

"Almost...a little more to the left...no, no, that's the _right_...that did it! Hold it there! Don't move it!"

Carter turned to the source of the voice - a man in similar vestment to the other agents he had seen, with a thick mustache and slick, combed-back brown hair. Once he caught sight of Weaver and her pair of guests, he clapped his hands and started walking towards them.

"Alright, people," he called out with a chuckle, "show's over. Back to work." As he approached them, he extended his hand out to Weaver. "Angela. Good to see you're still in one piece."

The woman leading Carter made no move to reciprocate the gesture. The look in the man's eyes made him think this wasn't the first time he'd been given the cold shoulder from Weaver before. Instead, she simply looked to Carter, then to the man.

"Carter, this is Nico DaSilva, Senior Field Agent and Squad Leader for Strike-Two," she explained professionally. "Nico, you'll be sharing your workspace with Agent Carter."

Nico shrugged, then turned to Carter, hand still extended. He let out a smile when Carter at least had the decency to return the handshake, then turned to look at Summer. "Just like back in college, huh? And who might this...lovely young lady be?"

Summer rolled her eyes, while Weaver glared. "We're working on finding that out. Calls herself 'Summer Rose', though it might just be an alias. Possible amnesia. Not your concern."

Carter watched as the young woman tensed up a bit, possibly even stifling a shiver.

"In the meantime, I want you to take Carter. Faulke wants him up and running ASAP. 'Time is of the essence,' he said. His words, not mine."

"Gotcha," said Nico with a nod. Then he turned to Summer and Carter, smiling as he spread his hands out. "Welcome to the most advanced facility on Earth."

Summer visibly mouthed the word 'earth' to herself. Carter pretended not to notice as DaSilva led him away from the two women.

"Come on," he said to Carter, "our office is right over here. My desk is on the left side, yours is on the right. Get comfortable, Will. Things as they are now, this is both your office and your quarters." He paused. "You don't mind if I call you 'Will', do you?"

"Yes. I do mind."

"Well, I'm not calling you 'Agent Carter' all the time," said Nico as he rolled his eyes. "Not exactly a fan of formality."

Carter scowled. "I prefer William."

"Yeah, well, I prefer 'Nico,' but my mother insists on calling me Nicolas. There are some things that are just beyond our control. So, Will, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself? I mean, obviously everyone here's read your file, but I'd like to get to know the real William Carter, you know?"

As "Will" was led to a modest desk space while Nico prattled and prodded, he grumbled a bit to himself.

He was gonna have a lot of friends here, he could tell.

* * *

The hot water washed over Summer Rose like a spring rain, causing an involuntary moan of relief to escape her lips. She didn't usually like taking showers all that much - she had always been an advocate for the benefits of a nice, long hot bath. But after spending over six hours in a dead officer's uniform, sticking her feet into the shoes of a fallen soldier, and splattering herself with both enemy blood and her own, a cleansing rinse of any kind was very much appreciated.

As she scrubbed and soaked in repetitive motions, her mind wandered beyond the confines of the women's washroom. This world…"Earth," as the DaSilva man had called it...was certainly something. The technology was different, less advanced. Without the power of Dust, it seemed like these people had to rely on other means of engineering and invention. Weapons were simple and unsophisticated, and didn't seem to serve any purpose besides pointing and shooting. No swords or other melee implements, either, at least not in this part of the world. Communications equipment was big and bulky, unlike the sleek, smooth Scrolls she was used to. And no one seemed to be all that concerned about attracting the Grimm, or setting up defenses against the shadowy monsters - so it was safe to assume that either they didn't exist here, or were the least of everyone's concerns.

But aside from that...it really wasn't all that different from Remnant.

Even the people seemed familiar, as odd as it sounded. Not only did they look similar to her and speak the same language, she saw people from her old home in the new faces around her. Director Faulke, for instance, was as enigmatic and seemingly unflappable as Ozpin himself - everyone seemed to look to him for guidance, and he carried himself with the demeanor of a man who had seen impossible things. Then there was Carter, who was surly, grouchy, didn't like relying on others, and had a bit of a drinking problem - much like a dusty Qrow she had known in a past life. And from what little she had seen of DaSilva, he seemed to aspire to be a "ladykiller" like Taiyang had been...or had tried to see himself as, in any case. And Weaver…the stone-cold woman reminded Summer quite a bit of Raven, and not in the good way.

She still had a lot of questions about the world she was apparently part of now, and she knew her "amnesia" story wasn't going to hold under much scrutiny for very long. She would need to learn about this world if she was going to survive here. Especially when there was already threat of an alien invasion going on -

"Oh!" came the yelp of a young woman from just outside the shower stall, "I-I'm sorry! I didn't think anyone else was in here..."

Summer poked her head out of the plastic curtain, casting a pair of silver eyes over her "visitor." The flustered-looking young woman was awkwardly trying to clear the steam off her glasses in one hand, as the other arm was currently carrying a large, thick book. Her pale skin and short dark brown hair made her deep red blush stand out all the more, and her somewhat-rounded face had a nervous grin as she tried to recompose herself.

"It's quite alright," said Summer with a soft chuckle, "As long as you're there, do you think you could hand me a towel? I forgot to grab one before I started…"

The woman blinked a few times in quick succession, as if her brain was trying to process what she had just heard. It must have clicked, however, because she walked to the nearby towel rack, grabbing one (abandoning her attempts to clear her glasses in the process) and bringing it to Summer's shower stall. The Huntress snaked out a dripping wet arm and took the towel, careful not to splatter the book as she did so.

"Thanks," she said with a grateful smile, "I'll be out in just a second."

The woman just stood there, nodding and smiling.

Summer frowned. "Um...you're going to turn around, right?"

Something snapped into place. "OH! Oh, of course!" She whirled on the spot, burying her face into the hardcovers in her arms.

With a soft laugh, Summer shut off the water and began drying herself off. Now that she was no longer under the protection of a warm stream, the cold redoubled its attack, making her shiver. But wrapping herself up in a towel proved an adequate defense, at least until she could get to the pile of clothes on the other side of the washroom…

...which this woman was currently blocking.

"Um...sorry, can I ask another favor?"

"O-of course. What is it?"

"Those clothes over there...can you bring them here? Or at least whatever goes on first."

The woman nodded and did so, handing a white undershirt, a pair of boxer shorts, and a soft set of gray dress pants through the shower curtain. After their little 'tour' had concluded, Weaver had pushed a set of spare agent clothes towards the Huntress, told her to change and not touch anything or talk to anyone, and left five seconds later to report to Faulke. Summer wasn't about to complain about being forced to wear 'guy clothes' or anything like that. At least it was more practical than that ridiculous pencil skirt.

Summer stepped out half-dressed and started putting the rest of the uniform on, buttoning up a dress shirt and vest and slipping a pair of black socks and shoes on over her feet. As she did so, she caught glimpses of the woman staring at her - or rather, Summer assumed, her muscles and physique. The third time it happened, her eyes met Summer's, and the Huntress got a good look at a pair of hazel eyes and a cute button nose just staring at her.

"Um...is something wrong?"

The woman shook her head. "No, no, you're fine, it's just...it's really you…"

As if a switch flipped in her mind, the woman suddenly straightened up. "Oh! But where are my manners? I'm Penelope Cohen, Communications Analyst under Officer Chulski. But you can just call me Penny. Everyone else does." She extended a hand out.

Summer chuckled as she stood up and shook the hand. "Summer Rose."

"Oh, I know," said Penny with a smile, "or, at least, I had a hunch it was you. The way that some of the agents were talking about you...it's almost like you were Wonder Woman out there."

The Huntress blinked. "Wonder...Woman?"

Penny's smile faded a bit. "...right. Amnesia. Of course. Sorry, you...probably haven't had much time to adjust, have you?"

"You could say that," said Summer as she tucked the newly-fixed tie under her vest. "Things certainly seem to move fast around here, don't they?"

"They do!" said Penny brightly, "Just a few hours ago I was helping DaSilva's team figure out the pattern behind a series of odd weather phenomena, and now there's talk of extraterrestrial activity being behind the unorthodox climate anomalies!" She blinked, then smiled sheepishly. "Um...I have a few questions for you, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead," said Summer, taking the towel and drying off her hair.

"Is it...is it true that you've fought aliens?"

The silver-eyed Huntress paused. "Yyyyyeess?"

"And is it true that you...killed them with your bare hands?"

"I mean...I used a big metal spike to do it, but yes. I also shot them."

"And...did you really kill over a hundred of them with a single blow?"

"Ah, no. That might be an embellishment."

"That's what I figured," said Penny with a sigh, "Kinney's a good person, but he does tend to exaggerate quite often. How did -"

But whatever questions that Penelope may have had were cut off by an announcement on the loudspeakers, asking all personnel to head to Operations Room for a staff-wide report in ten minutes.

"Sounds important," said Summer as she buttoned up the last buttons. "Let's get down there."

Penelope nodded, but then stopped. "Oh! Sorry, one more question. Do you...have an office yet?"

Summer paused, turning to look at the woman. "Um...no, I don't think Weaver's given me an assignment yet. Is that normal for agents to get an office?"

"Usually, yes, but…" Penny pushed her glasses back into place. "W-Well, if you haven't been assigned anywhere, you can...share an office with me. I was supposed to share it with someone who was being transferred from Groom Range, but...I don't think she's going to need it…"

The Huntress's heart sank, but she did a good job of hiding it. She smiled instead. "Thank you for the offer. We can talk more about it after Faulke gives his report."

"Sure thing!" Penelope said brightly as she and Summer left the washroom. "Wait...Faulke?"

The two women filed into the Operations Room just in time to watch Director Myron Faulke walk up to a podium overlooking a crowd of at least four dozen people. Some were dressed in full suits, others wore comfortable jeans and bomber jackets. Summer could recognize Carter, DaSilva, and Weaver standing closer to the middle of the room, while Kinney and Nils stood off to the side (escorted by some medical staff and one wrinkled-looking doctor). Behind the podium, on the big screen that she had seen DaSilva fiddling with earlier, an emblem with the words "Vigilo Confido" was displayed. Summer wasn't sure what that meant...but given how that same emblem was also painted on the floor beneath them, it seemed to be quite important.

The Director lit a cigarette, took a long draft, and exhaled a puff of smoke. "Lights."

At his command, the room went dim, and the screen shone brighter. The picture changed to show an image that sent unease rippling through the room - a military base on fire, besieged by an enemy unknown.

"We are at war," announced Faulke, his words echoing across the room. "And not the one we were expecting."

He gestured again, and the picture changed to showcase the horror and carnage from a different angle.

"What you see here is an assault on Groom Range that took place at 2100 hours. One of America's most closely-guarded secret installations, staffed with over two hundred of the finest men and women this country has ever seen. The survivors of said attack are standing in the room with us right now - all _seventeen_ of them."

An audible murmur swept through the crowd. People gasped. Penny looked down at the ground and folded her hands.

"In just a few minutes, our enemy managed to destroy the primary strategic command center," continued Faulke, "By 2130...Strategic Command itself ceased to exist."

Waiting a moment for the whispers to die down, Faulke capitalized on the moment to take another whiff of his cigarette. "Our combined military forces have been completely and utterly routed, or outright destroyed. Communications across the globe have gone dark. All the lines have been cut. The red phone will _not_ be ringing."

He stepped out from behind the podium, pacing as he continued to speak.

"And that is why as of now, I, Myron Faulke, am assuming command of what's left of our nation's defenses. The Bureau of Strategic Operations and Command was founded to coordinate resistance forces in the event of a complete and successful Soviet invasion. That mission remains the same...even if our enemy does not."

Summer watched as the energy around Faulke seemed to hum, as all eyes turned to him.

"We now face an opponent from beyond our world, whose identity is yet unknown to us. But make no mistake - this enemy has _crippled_ us, but not _destroyed _us. They have technology decades beyond what we possess. _We must make it our own_. Their weapons will become our weapons. And when they do..._we shall annihilate them._"

A chorus of "ooh-rah!"s came from somewhere in the right side of the room. Summer had to guess at least some of them were from the troops that made it back from Groom Range. Faulke seemed to take it in stride, nodding affirmatively towards them. Then he turned and addressed the entire room.

"I want this facility running on all engines at all times. I want ears on the radios, eyes on the skies, hands in the labs and in engineering, and boots on the ground ready to deploy at a moment's notice. From here on out, I expect nothing but focused determination. Everyone drives, everyone works, everyone does _something._ And above all else, I want everyone to be prepared to do whatever it takes to survive, adapt, and most importantly, w_in._"

Faulke stopped pacing, and in that moment, that brief pause, everyone in the room could swear he was speaking directly to _them._

"Welcome...to XCOM."

XCOM. Ex com. Eggs com? Summer would have to ask for clarification later, but for now she watched as the director stepped back behind his podium. "We'll begin by asking any and all scientifically-inclined individuals to report to Dr. Dresner's laboratory on sub-level four. We've recovered a number of alien artifacts from the attack on Groom Range, and the sooner we figure out how they work, the sooner we can turn them against our foe. Everyone else, to your stations. Rest if you need to, get some food and drink if you want to, but be ready for when _we_ need you. Dismissed."

Summer watched as people in the crowd seemed to form around Nils, Kinney, and the wrinkled old man, while other people disappeared into the hallways and doors. She turned to Penny, who was still next to her, clutching her books tightly.

"You okay?" she asked. The young woman nodded tightly.

"Y-yeah. I'm okay...just...finally realizing what's going on, you know? This is...this is real…"

Summer was about to speak a few words of comfort when she caught sight of Carter, Weaver, and DaSilva approaching. She waved at Carter, who responded with a tip of his hat, then looked at Weaver impassively. Penny darted behind Summer, as if she was trying to put a shield between herself and Weaver - not that anyone could blame her.

"Despite my...misgivings," Weaver spoke coldly, "Director Faulke has decided to assign you to field work. You'll be ASL for Strike Three, reporting directly to Agent Carter. Is that clear?"

The silver-eyed Huntress gave no other emotion in her body language or facial expression aside from a stiff nod. She had no idea what an "ASL" or a "Strike Three" was, but she could always ask later.

"I'll be gathering the rest of Strike Three for field drills at 0800 hours," said Carter. "Do you have an office assignment yet?"

Summer hesitated, then looked back at Penny. "Well...if it's allowed, Penelope Cohen has offered to share her office space with me."

Weaver raised an eyebrow. "Penelope Cohen is not cleared for field duty. Furthermore, she has not been authorized to -"

"Request granted."

The look that Weaver shot at Carter told Summer that the man in the hat _probably_ violated a few protocol commands. His small, there-one-moment-gone-the-next smile told her that he didn't care all that much either.

"Faulke's still trying to avoid co-ed office sharing as much as possible," said DaSilva, whose smile was far more clear. "Trying to cut down on 'distractions', as he called it. So it would make sense for Agent Rose here to share an office with another woman. Unless _you'd_ like to share your big fancy office with Summer here?"

Weaver opened her mouth as if to protest, then spun on her heel and stomped away. DaSilva chuckled as he watched Faulke's second in command walk away in a huff, then turned to Summer.

"Well...looks like you're already making waves here," said the man with the moustache, "I'll let you get to it then. Come on, Carter. The Kraut wants to run a few tests on these 'healing hands' of yours."

"Great," grumbled Carter, "looking forward to it." With one more tip of his hat towards both Summer and Penny, the Squad Leaders were off again.

Penny let out a sigh of relief, then straightened up. "I should probably report to Officer Chulski. I'm ready for more work, if it means keeping people safe. Can you find the office by yourself? It should be down the hall, the last one on the right. It'll say 'P. Cohen' on the side of the door. Feel free to get settled in, if you want."

Summer nodded. "Okay. I'm gonna go get some sleep before those field tests. See you around?"

"Of course," said Penny. Then as Summer turned to leave, she exclaimed, "Oh, one more thing!"

The Huntress spun back around to see Penny holding out the book she had been holding tightly, extending it towards Summer. "I...I have a lot of books in my office. They might help you with your...with your amnesia. You can start with this one. It's the most recent _World Almanac_. I've added some notes of my own in the margins, but...you don't have to read those if you don't want…"

Summer chuckled as she took the book from Penny's hands, smiling gratefully. "Thank you. I'll be sure to read every word of it."

Penny smiled in return, then turned and headed off towards another group of people. Humming gently, Summer tucked the book under her arm like it was a precious treasure, and headed out in search of a warm meal, a place to lie down, and information about this strange new world she had found herself in.


	6. In Pursuit of Knowledge

A/N: Hey, look at that! It only took me about...two...months to write this one! One of these days I'll get into a routine for writing. Maybe. Until then, enjoy this chapter! It's another "go around the Bureau and meet people and do stuff" kind of chapter, but I guarantee that next chapter's gonna have the action pick up a bit again. Thanks for your continued support, and keep being awesome!

* * *

"_Again._"

Summer grit her teeth and clutched her rifle tightly, sprinting as fast as she could to the chest-high wall on the east side of the mock battlefield. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Knox make a beeline for a stack of crates on the west, while Carter fired a burst of blanks at a group of cardboard cutouts hiding behind a brick wall. The sailing whistle of a Satchel charge flying through the air caught her ear, while a smoke grenade landed at her feet and sprayed a cloud of thick pink mist around her. Before the "explosive" charge could go off, the wheel-mounted targets rolled out from behind their protective barrier...only to be cut down first with a well-aimed sniper rifle shot, then by twin salvos of blanks that came at them from both sides as they moved. A loud bark from a shotgun, a few shots from a pistol, and one more burst of simulated rifle fire followed up, and just like that the "encounter" ended.

_"Mark. What's our time, Captain?"_

_"Fourteen seconds, Carter. On the dot."_

_"Not good enough. Needs to be under twelve. Summer, Knox, back to starting positions. Dawson, Shen, grab more smokes and charges. Goldstein, fix that damn bipod, you almost missed your shot. Everyone get ready to run it again. Watts, reset the clock."_

_"Already on it. Carter."_

The days following Summer's arrival at the Bureau (or XCOM - she had heard it been called both interchangeably) were filled with discovery, learning, and more physical drills than her entire time at Beacon combined. Most of her training consisted of these drills, but she also gained some insight into how the Bureau operated. She quickly learned that much like Huntsmen academies, XCOM preferred to field small teams of agents, and each "Strike Team" consisted of a Squad Leader, an ASL (short for Assistant Squad Leader) and at least one of the four different specialist agents employed by the Bureau. With highly specialized equipment and creative tactics, these Strike Teams could handle missions too delicate or complex to be solved by a standing army or an aerial bombardment, while still bringing enough firepower to handle just about anything they encountered.

Recon agents like Thomas Nils or Adam Goldstein were the team's resident snipers, tasked with picking out targets from a distance and eliminating them at long range. They also served as the scouting units for the team, and were trained in the use of camouflage and infiltration - the logic being that if the enemy couldn't see them, they couldn't shoot them.

Then there were Engineering agents, often just called Engineers, such as John Kinney or Raymond Shen. They specialized in deploying traps, delivering explosive payloads, or sewing general mayhem into the enemy squad. They were also tasked with maintaining the squad's gear and weapons, as well as making sure enemies were well and truly dead with a point blank blast from a shotgun.

Commandos like Knox Dolan were either brave, insane, or both. Their primary job in a firefight was to draw the enemy's attention - and their guns - to themselves, giving other operatives that brief window of time they needed to get set up, deploy a trap, or move to a safer location. With a preference for fully-automatic weapons and brazen, in-your-face tactics, it wasn't too hard for a Commando to return fire even under pressure.

Finally, Support agents like Gray Dawson were responsible for the squad's well-being, both on and off the battlefield. While Carter's strange ability to heal his fellow allies was useful, the fact remained that he couldn't be everywhere at once, and he was the only one with such an ability. So having a dedicated medical officer in the squad was still necessary - especially a medical officer that carried an assortment of smoke grenades, flashbangs, and combat stimulants everywhere he went.

Each and every Agent, no matter their specialization, were run through numerous drills and training to be entirely self-sufficient, while still working in tandem with other operatives. The more they accomplished individually, the more freedom they were given, and were given promotions based on their meaningful successes. Summer came to learn that Agents had a number of "ranks" they would climb through during their time at the Bureau, starting at Specialist and working their way up to Third Rank, then Second, then First, and finally Officer rank. Only a handful of Officers would be on base at any given time, which included Angela Weaver and Nico DaSilva - and their Strike Teams were only deployed on the most vital of missions.

When she wasn't running drills with the rest of Strike Three, Summer often found herself watching the other Strike Teams practice. Observing the tactics of each of the different squads gave her insight on how each Squad Leader thought and acted, as well as speaking volumes about their character. Carter, for example, focused heavily on controlling the battlefield, locking down high-value targets and pushing enemies into clean, efficient kill zones of crossfire and sniper shots. By contrast, DaSilva seemed to prefer using the environment and superior positioning to flank or outsmart the enemy, often toying with heavier targets as their allies were picked off one by one. And finally, Weaver's MO involved inflicting as much damage to one target as possible, picking off enemy units one by one until there was nothing but blood and bullet-riddled corpses.

On the rare times she wasn't in the training room, Summer spent hours upon hours voraciously reading the books that Penny had generously let her borrow. Reading through the history of Earth seemed to confirm her suspicions - things like Aura, Dust, and Faunus simply did not exist in this world, and the only Grimm she found came in the form of a family of authors. She wasn't sure if that made this world safer or more dangerous - without a common enemy to unite them or a nightmarish monster horde lurking to prey on their negative emotions, humanity saw fit to wage countless wars between nations over the most trivial of reasons. Nevertheless, part of her was impressed at the sheer variety of weaponry and technology humanity had developed - in place of Dust, humans had learned how to use chemical reactions in the world around them to power their cars, their planes, and their bullets.

There was a _lot_ for Summer to learn, and she'd need to do so fast. Her fatal confrontation with Salem had granted her a second chance in this new world, but it was still a world that was not her own. And considering that everyone here on Earth was extremely paranoid of two of the biggest global superpowers dousing the world in nuclear fire, to say nothing of the literal aliens invading their planet in secret, knowledge of her true origin would cut this second chance extremely short. And Summer was _not _about to let that happen.

Because if she had come from Remnant to Earth…

...then surely there must be a way for her to go back home.

"_Again_."

Summer shook her head to clear her thoughts, running the same drill for the fifth time that day. She and Knox ran, Shen threw a satchel charge, Dawson popped off a smoke grenade, and Carter and Goldstein landed precise shots. Within seconds, the encounter was once again over.

"_Time."_

"_Eleven point seven seconds, Carter. New best time."_

_"Good. Now let's get it under ten seconds. Back to starting positions."_

Summer groaned. It was gonna be a long day.

* * *

"Officer Chulski?"

The woman at the desk brushed her dirty-blonde hair out of her face, before standing up and nodding to her guest. "Ah, hello Penny," she said. "Your next shift doesn't start for another two hours."

"Oh, I know," said Penny, fidgeting with her book, "but I just wanted to give Summer a more...comprehensive tour. Weaver didn't exactly give her much of a chance to get acquainted with the people she'd be working with."

Chulski nodded, turning to address the silver-eyed stranger next to Penny. "I see. And...I presume that you're this 'Summer Rose' I've been hearing about."

Summer scratched the back of her neck. "Guess word travels fast around here."

"Kinda hard for it not to," said a man with darkened skin at a nearby terminal, "This far underground, gossip spreads like wildfire." He stood up and offered a calloused hand, which Summer shook enthusiastically. "Michael Redmond, Strike Two's Support Agent, Second Rank. Kinney and Nils speak highly of you, Miss Rose. Nice to finally meet you."

"Some of the agents volunteer their time here at the comms when they're not on assignment," said Penny with a smile, "That's Ryan Steel over there, in the blue hat - " Ryan tipped his hat towards Summer, "- Howard Vahlen, in the green one -" Howard gave a charming smile, "- and over there in the corner is Dennis Cole." In a low whisper, she said, "He's not the most sociable person on base."

Dennis grunted vaguely in the direction of the women, then went back to work on the typewriter. Chulski frowned as she noted the half-empty bottle of whiskey next to the Squad Leader for Strike Four - she made a mental note to herself to speak to Faulke if his habits got anymore out of hand.

"It's nice to meet you," said Summer with a pleasant smile, "All of you." She turned to the communications specialist. "And I assume this means you're Officer Chulski? Penny speaks very highly of you."

Unlike her easily-flustered subordinate, Chulski simply nodded stoically with a small smile. "I should hope so. I am the Chief Information Officer for the Bureau, after all."

"Information officer?" Summer tilted her head. "What does that mean? If you're an officer, does that mean you're an agent too?"

Chulski shook her head. "No, I don't do field work. But I do make it possible for agents like yourself to do theirs. I'm in charge of researching, investigating, and following up on possible leads, I oversee the dispatchers both locally and abroad, and I manage our public communications and keep our profile low. For the time, my job also includes keeping the American people from knowing the full scope of the threat."

Summer bit her lower lip, frowning slightly. "So...we're the only ones who know about these Outsiders?"

"For now, at least," said Chulksi with a grimace. "Tensions and fears about foreign invaders are already high thanks to that jackass McCarthy. If people find out about this, there'll be anarchy. And rioting mobs of civilians are the last thing we need right now."

"While us agents contain alien attacks and strike back where it hurts, people like Chulksi here keep the panic levels in check," added Redmond. "And they do a bang-up job of it, if you ask me. Course, it won't make much difference if we don't win...but hey, wars are all about winning hearts and minds, right?"

The silver-eyed Agent seemed to understand, though Chulksi could tell that she wasn't completely satisfied. "Is there anything else I can help you with, Miss Rose?"

Summer hummed thoughtfully, looking around. "How, exactly, _are_ you broadcasting in the first place? I thought the enemy was jamming all Earth-based communications."

"They are," replied Chulksi as she nodded. "They've been saturating everything with interference, using some kind of strange signal. Most broadcasting equipment has been cut down to less than five percent of their maximum effective range."

"Then, how are you -"

"_Our_ technology is significantly more robust," answered Chulski, a small gleam in her eye. "We're currently operating at about ninety percent of our effective range, and we're constantly tweaking and tuning to try and eke out a few more miles to try to bring that up. Because even just a one percent increase can mean a couple miles - and that can make all the difference when trying to track an enemy as elusive as this one."

"Have there been any attacks lately?"

"A few, but they've mostly been small skirmishes. A few minor counties, a couple small towns, but a handful of agents have taken care of those. They haven't launched another major attack on the scale of Groom Range for a few days now...which is both a blessing and a curse, since it means that it gives us time to prepare, but it also gives _them_ time to get ready for something else just as big."

"If not bigger," said Redmond with a sour grimace. "If they attack a major city, it's gonna be a PR _nightmare_."

Dennis gave no input other than to take a swig of whiskey. Steel and Vahlen gave each other looks, then went back to work.

"How _is_ the public mood, by the way?" asked Summer. "If you don't mind my asking, of course."

"They're worried about the communications blackout," said Chulksi, "but we've got agents in major cities helping to keep them in line."

Summer raised an eyebrow. "Keeping them in line? That sounds an awful lot like declaring martial law."

"It's not quite that bad," said Penny, "It's mostly just a series of emergency preparedness tests. Siren drills, rationing orders, where to find the nearest bomb shelter, that sort of thing. It'll be tense, but organized. They seem to be pretty compliant for the most part - right now the main thing they're all worried about is that they're missing the latest episodes of _As The World Turns. _Not that I can really blame them…"

The woman hid behind her books once more. "Sorry...I'm oversharing again…"

Chulski let out a soft laugh. "It's quite alright, Penny. Good on you for taking the initiative to introduce Agent Rose here to the rest of the facility. Now, if you'll excuse me, I should get back to work. There's some journalist in Washington who claims to have photos of one of the Outsider attack ships, and we need to quash it before it can get picked up by the Post. Will that be all, Miss Rose?"

Summer looked at the ground with a frown, then looked at her friend with a smile. "Yes. That will be all. Keep up the good work."

"You as well, Agent. Vigilo Confido."

As the two women walked away, Chulski could hear a brief snippet of their conversation.

"I've been hearing and seeing that phrase a lot. What does it mean, again?"

"It's a Latin phrase. The 'vigilo' part translates to 'I am vigilant,' while the 'confido' part is supposed to mean 'I believe.' It's a bit of a loose translation, though, so it doesn't exactly follow the grammatical structure used in…"

Chulski allowed herself one more smile for the day before she went back to work.

* * *

"You were there. You saw what the two of them were capable of."

"I did. It's just...his file paints a different picture. And I still think it's a mistake to bring her on just like that. We just don't know who she really is or where she…oh, speak of the devil. Well, one of them anyway."

Carter grimaced as he walked into Director Faulke's office, passing the secretary and bathing in the light coming from a single sunlamp in the corner...as well as the greyish glow of ten different monitors and a computer lining the back wall. In front of the mahogany desk, Director Faulke and Agent Weaver turned from their conversation, greeting him with a curt nod.

"Carter," said Faulke. "Good. Have a seat. Weaver, we'll talk later."

The brown-haired woman saluted, then walked past Carter, her usual scowl on her face.

"Didn't know I was such a popular topic of conversation," said the gray-hatted man as he took a seat in a big green armchair in front of Faulke's desk, his eyes scanning the faux-wood walls. He took special note of the number of degrees and doctorates framed and hanging proudly over a low side table, which was neatly organized with a pair of film reels on the corner and a collection of books held up by bookends. "Though next time you wanna talk about someone behind their back, it helps if you close the door first."

"You'll have to excuse Agent Weaver's...less than enthusiastic support of your new assignment," said Faulke as he himself sat down in a leather seat, reaching under the table for a bottle of whiskey and two small glasses. "She's afraid you don't play well with others. I, on the other hand, tend to see that as an asset."

Carter raised an eyebrow. "You're offering me a drink? You sure that's a good idea?"

"This may very well be the last bottle of Jack Daniels we see in our lifetimes," said Faulke as he filled the glasses. "If it is, I don't want it to go to waste. Here."

Taking the glass that the Director slid to him, Carter sampled it with a small sip. It was bitter and burned, but it still had a rich taste to it, a subtle muted sourness that added to the flavors, instead of overpowering them.

"Not bad," he admitted.

"I only accept the best," said Faulke with a cold smirk.

Carter decided the elephant in the room had gone without being mentioned long enough. "Sir, you didn't ask me up here for drinks and small talk. What do you want with me?"

Faulke's smirk vanished. He pushed his glasses into place with one finger. "You're not here in this facility by chance, mister Carter. I brought you here quite purposefully. You see, I've been following your career for some time, and -"

"What career?" interjected Carter. "The one where I've been stuck behind a desk for who-knows-how-long?"

"No, I'm talking about the one where you were a hell of an agent _before_ you sat behind that desk. And you know what else I know?"

Carter knocked back another sip of the whiskey, then raised an eyebrow at Faulke.

"I know what put you behind that desk."

The gray-hatted man clenched his teeth. "The Brass put me there."

"They made the call, yes. But it was _you_ who kept yourself there."

A pit formed in Carter's stomach as he narrowed his eyes. "I don't need another round of psycho-babble. I had enough of that from the company shrinks after the...incident."

"_Accident,_ Carter. It was beyond your control."

"Right, right," said Carter dismissively. "Yeah, and next you're gonna tell me how I can't save everyone."

The Director of XCOM hunched his shoulders. His voice grew cold. "It's too late for that. You already know that. You already know that what happened to your family was an accident, a tragic loss of life. How you deal with that is up to you. But the fact is, while you can't save everyone, you can save some of them. And right now, that might be enough."

Carter's grip tightened on the glass, threatening to crack it in his hands. "And you're sure that this...artifact, whatever the hell it is, isn't the main reason you're keeping me here?"

"Quite sure," said Faulke. "Doctor Dresner's working theory so far is that the artifact has bonded to you on a molecular level. Preliminary testing on the artifact found it to be virtually indestructible, rapidly regenerating any damage the scientists did manage to inflict on it, as well as emitting energy far beyond the scale of our instrumentation. By bonding with it, you seemed to have inherited some of its more...remarkable abilities. But it doesn't make you a squad leader, or a field agent, or a marksman. That's your ability, not the artifact."

With a grimace, Carter leaned forward. "See...that's the thing. I'm not so sure if it is."

At this, Faulke raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, Carter?"

"I mean, sometimes when I'm planning, it feels like…" Carter paused, looking for the right words. "...like time slows to a crawl. And I visualize my squad as...puppets of light, in advantageous positions. A half a second feels like it takes ages when I'm focusing, and it's almost like…"

Faulke's head tilted to the right. "Almost like what, Agent Carter?"

"Like I'm looking into the future. Or part of it, at least."

The Director of XCOM hummed thoughtfully. "Interesting. Be sure to keep me updated on this…'battle focus.' Let me know if anything changes, when it triggers, how often it happens, or how long it lasts. If we're in command of what's left of our nation's forces...this might just make you our best weapon."

Carter nodded with a frown, draining the rest of his glass and setting it down. "Anything else you wanted to talk about, sir?"

"Not right now," said Faulke, knocking back his own glass and setting it aside. "We might have a mission for the strike teams in the coming days. I'll keep you posted. Be ready to go at a moment's notice. For now, though? Dismissed."

The man with the gray hat nodded, standing back up and turning to walk away.

"Oh, and Carter? One more thing."

He looked back to see Faulke's silhouette staring at him, the light from the monitors casting a shadow on his face.

"It's okay to forgive yourself. I'm sure it's what Julia and Richard would want."

With a scowl, Carter readjusted his hat and walked out.

_Probably_, he thought bitterly, _but I can't exactly just ask them now, can I?_

* * *

"Ah, Fräulein Rose. Thank you for coming to see me on such short notice. I will try not to take up too much of your time, ja?"

Summer shivered as she stepped into the laboratory (or perhaps "lair" would be a more accurate term) of Doctor Heinrich Dresner, the wrinkled old man she had seen around base every now and again. The "Kraut," as the other agents sometimes called him, certainly looked like a batch of sauerkraut that had stayed in the fridge for too long, but age didn't seem to slow him down as he darted and dashed from station to station. While not quite as fast as she'd seen Doctor Oobleck zip around the classroom - that man had to have had more coffee than blood in his veins by now - Doctor Dresner's speed still took the homeless huntress by surprise. Especially considering how...cold it was.

Though part of the problem might have been the attire she'd been asked to wear. "Yeah, we should probably make this quick," she agreed, looking down at her undergarments exposed for the world to see. "I feel like I'll turn into a popsicle if I stay here too long."

"Ach, no need to worry about that, fräulein," said Dresner as he relit a Bunsen burner, "If anything, the cold stimulates the mind, and lets us think more clearly. And besides, it is only five degrees celsius - or about forty-one of your silly fahrenheit degrees, if you insist on being difficult. Well above freezing point. You'll be fine!"

"If you say so," said Summer. "But I sure hope there's a reason I had to ditch my uniform before I came here."

"Better to get an assessment of your vitals," replied the doctor in a clipped voice. "Speaking of which, let's begin. If you'll step up to the scale, please…"

For the next hour or so, Summer's stomach twisted itself into knots as Doctor Dresner measured her height, weight, blood pressure, pulse, visual acuity, hearing, muscle reflex, gag reflex, BMI, and about a million other things she could only hope wouldn't reveal her true nature. She stood in front of a rather large machine Dresner called an "X-Ray", felt a wince of pain as her finger was pricked for a blood test, and held her breath as she was dunked into a tank of water that was somehow _even colder_ than the air around it. Throughout the whole process, the German scientist hummed and hawed, writing down notes on a clipboard and occasionally pausing thoughtfully.

When all was said and done, Summer finally got to feel the warm-ish embrace of a thick towel. "Well, doc? Hope you found what you were looking for, cause I sure as hell don't wanna do that again."

Doctor Dresner hummed thoughtfully once more. "Well...wherever you came from, you were certainly well cared for and thoroughly trained. Good bone density, excellent muscular strength and response, an extremely powerful cardiovascular system, and an efficient metabolism...if I subscribed at all to that ridiculous 'Übermensch' theory, I dare say you would come close." He smirked. "Ah, the Führer would have _delighted_ to have laid eyes on you...until he realized you were a woman, of course. Then he would have been _furious._ 'Why was this great power granted to the weaker of sexes?' he would have cried to the heavens...ah, but listen to me ramble on. Have you had any of your memories return?"

Summer shook her head. "Not recently, no. Only reason I know anything about what's happened in the world has been those books Penny gave me. Still, I guess it's good to hear that I've got nice...bones, at least."

The doctor laughed as he set his clipboard on the table. "Ah, fräulein, if the stories of you rushing those Outsiders like some kind of barbarian are true, I don't think that was ever in doubt. Which makes you the ideal person for my next task. Well...possibly second best. Herr Carter's mysterious healing ability might be better suited. But I'm sure I've gotten the devices to the point where they no longer spontaneously combust!...in theory, anyways. Now, follow me Fräulein Rose, and don't forget to grab your pants on the way out…"

The silver-eyed Huntress hurriedly threw her clothes back on and let Doctor Dresner lead her to another part of the lab, one that was far less spacious but contained significantly fewer valuable objects. On a table in the corner sat two odd devices - a very hefty-looking device with all sorts of wires, tubes, and dials, and a large bulky backpack connected to said device by a pair of cables. Summer also noticed a stack of Outsider weapons next to the table...as well as a rather nervous-looking lab technician with a pistol.

"I think the agents are going to enjoy this one," said Dresner as he stepped behind a secure bulletproof viewing station. "Go ahead and slip them both on. The larger one goes on your back, like a backpack, while the other one goes on the wrist of your dominant hand...the straps are adjustable, so it should fit any size...make sure the cable doesn't twist around your torso, you'll need the freedom...ah, wunderbar! A perfect fit!"

Summer winced as something dug into her forearm, and a moment later the strange gizmo on her wrist lit up with a soft hum. "What exactly is this thing, doctor?"

"My greatest creation thus far," said Doctor Dresner, eyes gleaming with pride, "It amplifies the natural strength and stamina of the wearer, monitors and transmits vital signs, creates a non-lethal electric shock field at the point of impact, and allows the wearer to interface with Outsider technology. A marvelous hybrid of terrestrial and extraterrestrial engineering, with the strength of both and the weaknesses of neither. I call it...the Venn brace."

The homeless Huntress curled her fingertips, feeling a surge of something flood through her. It wasn't even close to how she felt when her Aura was active, but it still felt good. That last part intrigued her, though, even more than the other features. "Interface with Outsider tech? You mean like their weapons and stuff?"

"Not only their weapons, but their panels and computers," answered the doctor, a manic grin on his face. "These Outsiders, their technology is all coded into their DNA. Any attempt to interface by something with non-matching DNA accomplishes nothing at best, and a fatal scorching at worst. The Venn brace fools the alien biocomputers into thinking that the wearer is an Outsider - or a Sectoid, or whatever other species these invaders may have allied themselves with. Clever, is it not?"

Summer smirked. "I guess when Faulke told us to make the enemy's weapons our own, you took that command literally. And what's the backpack for?"

"A mobile power supply and ammo storage unit," said the doctor, "plus personal shield generator."

That _definitely_ got Summer's attention. "Shield generator? You mean like the one on that guy Carter and Nils and I fought in Groom Range?"

"The very same one. Turns out it's quite easy to cobble together a kinetic barrier generator - all it takes is a few grams of Elerium-115, a bundle of wires, and a steel casing. Do be careful though, as these generators aren't as strong as the one you encountered - but it should at least allow you to survive a handful of shots without bleeding everywhere. Now...Frauline Rose, would you do the honors?"

With a grin, Summer picked up one of the alien rifles, looking it over pensively for a moment. Aside from the cold metallic surfacing, the glowing red panels that hummed to life as she picked it up, and the angular designs, it still bore all the classic characteristics of a standard rifle. It had a stock, a trigger, a slot for power cells similar to a magazine port, and a fire selector just above the handle. It even had a pair of sights on the top - which, upon examination, could unfold into a small scope for precision shooting.

_Both human and alien weapons seem to follow a lot of Remnant's weapon design,_ she mused, _I guess violence and warfare is a language everyone speaks, regardless of origin._

After a bit of experimenting, she lined up the sights on the target plastered against the wall, steadied her aim, and fired.

_PEW PEW PEW PEW PEW._

As soon as she squeezed the trigger, a salvo of nearly-blinding red beams of light shot from the tip of her weapon. There was surprisingly little kickback from the alien rifle - it was almost as if the weapon was a toy in her hands. The result was anything but playful, however, as the paper used for the target went up in flames as soon as the lasers connected. The smell of burning ozone filled the air, and Summer just stared down at the weapon, then looked to the small fire on the wall, then grinned.

Dresner seemed to share in her joy. "Wunderbar. It's beautiful. Now, hold still, Frauline, and try not to move…"

Summer was confused for a moment, then it clicked in her head as soon as she heard another click from the corner. Moments later, the echoing sound of gunfire reached her ears, and she braced herself for the sensation of being shot...a sensation that never came. Instead, she looked over her shoulder to see the technician holding a smoking gun, while a faint shimmer of blue light fizzled in front of her eyes before vanishing.

"Großartig! Herrlich! Oh, the Director will be quite pleased!"

Summer arched her brow at Doctor Dresner's enthusiasm, and for a moment considered asking how he would have reacted if the shield _didn't_ work. However, his joy was infectious, and soon she smiled as well. "So how many of these things do we have? Both the Venn braces and the shields?"

"Just that set for now," said Dresner over the intercom, "but I'll put the engineering and science teams to work on manufacturing more of them right away. This could change the tide of the war before it's even begun...thank you for your contribution to human history, Frauline Rose. You're free to go as soon as you return the gear. Good luck, and be careful!"

Blushing a bit at the idea of her - an alien herself - being invaluable to the war effort of a conflict against aliens, Summer nonetheless discarded her prototype gear, set it neatly on the table, then left with a bow of respect.

* * *

_"Squad Leads and ASLs for Strikes One through Three, report to Operations immediately."_

The words of director Myron Faulke echoed throughout the base as he stepped away from the intercom, folding his arms across his chest as he turned his back on the floor-to-ceiling projector screen. Exactly thirty-seven seconds after the call went out, Angela Weaver marched into Operations, followed by a rugged-looking young man in a green sweater. William Carter was the next to arrive with an already-loaded handgun and a fresh new hat, the same shade of gray as his old one, but with fewer bullet holes and alien blood. Summer Rose and Thomas Nils followed soon after, standing at attention.

The man in green nodded to Nils, then tilted his head at the woman that wasn't his Squad Leader. "Summer Rose, I presume?" he asked in a gravelly voice.

"Depends on who wants to know," said Summer with a smirk. "If I happened to know you before, I'm afraid you'll have to introduce yourself again. I've...forgotten a good number of things recently."

With a chuckle, the man reached out a hand. "Believe me, I'd remember meeting someone like you, even if you didn't remember me. Steven Bradford, Strike One ASL, Recon agent, Second Rank. Weaver's told me everything about you."

Another mischievous smile. "I certainly hope she hasn't told you _everything_. A lady's gotta have secrets, after all."

"Cut the chatter," snapped Weaver, "This is a briefing, not a barbeque. Carter, do try to keep your squad in line. If you can't control them off the battlefield, how will you control them on it?"

Bradford immediately snapped back to attention. Carter grumbled "I'll manage my own squad, thanks" under his breath, which earned a glare from Weaver, but neither of them pressed the issue further. Summer just looked at Nils, who tried to smile at her comfortingly.

"We'll begin the briefing in just a moment," said Faulke in an attempt to occupy the silence before tensions could rise again. "We're just waiting on Agent DaSilva, and then we can -"

"Sorry I'm late!"

Everyone in the room turned to see Nico shuffling into Operations, buckling up his pants and panting heavily. His suit vest was buttoned haphazardly, his tie was crooked and loose, and he had smudges of lipstick all over his face and his neck. It didn't take a genius to guess why he was late.

"Had to finish saying goodbye, sir?" asked Nils with a grin.

"Well, you know me," chuckled Nico as he tried to wipe at the smudges, "Not exactly the sort of person to leave someone unsatisfied."

Weaver scowled. "We wasted two minutes and forty-five seconds because you couldn't keep your hands off some broa-"

"_That will be all, Agent Weaver,"_ said Faulke sharply. "Now that you've all assembled, we're ready to begin. Oh, and Agent DaSilva? Be sure to follow up with my secretary by giving her something nice. She likes flowers."

The leader of Strike One bit her lower lip, while Carter smirked vindictively. Nico just about froze on the spot, then redoubled his efforts to rub off the lipstick marks. Eventually, six pairs of eyes followed Faulke as he pulled up a set of images on the screen behind him, smiles and spirits fading.

"Four months before the Groom Range attack," he explained, "we began working remotely with one Doctor Alan Weir, operating from Rosemont University. He's proven himself to be an exceptionally gifted researcher and engineer, skilled in the transmissive properties of Elerium-115 and how it can be used to make our computers 'talk' with one another. He's the reason you haven't seen a single punch card or vacuum tube around the base - his advancements have set our computing technology ahead at least a decade."

The slide changed, showing a map of the United States with several large red triangles converging around Georgia. The message was clear, even if Faulke hadn't directly said it yet.

"Approximately twenty-one minutes ago, an unidentified flying object began an assault campaign, bombarding the surrounding area and deploying large numbers of troops. Their target: Rosemont University. As you can imagine...the fight didn't last long."

Nico shook his head, while Carter grimaced. Nils swore under his breath, while Bradford's brow furrowed. Summer narrowed her eyes, while Weaver showed no outward emotion. No one spoke up, so Faulke took that as a sign to continue.

"We believe they're making another attempt to set up an outpost, like what they tried to do during the attack on Groom Range. If they're successful...they'll have the entire West Coast under their thumb in a matter of hours. And we cannot let that happen."

The slide changed again, showing a map of the university with red markers detailing a plan of attack. He faced the screen, pointing as he spoke.

"We're deploying three strike teams to counter this enemy attack, each with different objectives. Strike One is to locate and neutralize the field commander - from our intel, this particular Outsider is required to initiate their terraforming procedures. Strike Two will be tasked with sabotaging any and all alien structures that have begun construction, either by disabling their electronic systems or by dismantling them with explosives. And Strike Three, your job is to locate and safely extract Doctor Weir - his expertise will be invaluable, and his research can tell us what the enemy wants and how they think...and how we can stop them."

Faulke turned once more to address the Squad Leaders, who all reacted differently. Weaver nodded silently, Nico grinned an impish grin, and Carter mumbled something about "getting stuck with babysitting duty again." Nils and Bradford both nodded, while Summer looked pensive.

"Any questions?"

Predictably, Summer's hand shot into the air. "Any secondary objectives? What about survivors? And do we have enough Venn braces and packs for all the agents on this mission?"

The director smiled slightly. "No secondary objectives, agent Rose, beyond eliminating as many hostile contacts as possible and recovering as much salvage as you can. Doctor Dresner and his team have pulled several all-nighters to manufacture enough Venn braces for three full Strike Teams - in fact, he's specifically requested that agents try to use the electric shock function to 'capture' several smaller enemies, like the Sectoids. As for civilians…"

Summer watched as Faulke's smile vanished. "Given the sudden nature of the attack, it's unlikely that any non-combatants survived. If you do find any, however, radio in your designated Skyranger for pickup. We'll transfer then to an offsite facility and...help them process the trauma."

Process. Such a clinical term for an ugly procedure. It was nothing invasive or fatal - quite the opposite, in fact. Processed civilians would come out of the offsite facility blissfully unaware of the alien threat, happy and optimistic no matter how their life was before. In fact...it would be as though they had just woken up from a very bad dream, with only bits and pieces of the life they had before lingering in their minds. They would go on to lead meaningful, fulfilling lives, free of hardship, free of nightmares, and free of fear...at least, that was what the Bureau hoped would happen.

After all, erasing a person's entire identity wasn't an exact science quite yet.

"No more questions, then," said Summer, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Is there anything else you wanted to tell us?"

"Just one more thing," said Faulke, "We're not sure if our enemy has been able to decipher our communications, or if they understand our language. So from now on during field ops, I want everyone to be using code names. They'll consist of the NATO phonetic alphabet equivalent of the first letter of your first name, followed by your strike team number. If two people have the same first name, we'll work around it, but the point is I don't want to hear any real names out in the field."

He pointed at Weaver and Bradford, then DaSilva and Nils, then finally at Carter and Summer. "So for instance, Alpha-One and Sierra-One. November-Two and Tango-Two. And finally...Whiskey-Three and Sierra-Three."

Carter rolled his eyes derisively, then glared at Faulke. "...I suppose this is your idea of a joke, sir?"

"It does seem a bit on the nose," said Nico with a grin. Weaver just glared at both of them, and looked to Faulke, who was forcing down a smile of his own.

"I can guarantee that any...insinuations based on previous behavior is purely accidental. Now, we can stand around arguing over who gets called what, or we can go out there and save the world. What'll it be?"

"Right," grumbled Carter as he adjusted his hat. "Let's go get him."

"Good choice," said Faulke with a nod. "Dismissed. Get out there, complete your missions, report back here. Vigilo Confido, and good luck."

The director watched as the Strike Leaders filed out, their ASLs right behind them as they made their way to mission prep. For a brief moment, Summer turned and caught Faulke's glance, before she too disappeared around the corner.

Myron Faulke let out a sigh, lit up a cigarette, and made the trek back to his office.

The good doctor was waiting for an XCOM rescue.


	7. Homecoming

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out. I started a new part-time job back in December, and as much as I love it, it does consume quite a bit of my free time these days. Plus I sprained my wrist a bit, and although it's nothing major, it does make typing and writing a bit more difficult. So I do apologize for how long it took, and hopefully it'll be shorter from here on out!

This chapter and the next one have quite a bit of action, as they're retellings of one of the main story missions of the Bureau. So enjoy!

* * *

"Mornin, Billy. What can I get you this fine Tuesday?"

The bleary-eyed young Man blinked and gave his best attempt at a smile to the kind-hearted old woman. "Mornin', Edna. The usual, if you please."

Edna nodded with a sweet smile, then disappeared into the kitchen. With no one else in the coffee shop, Billy went back to the seemingly impossible task of trying to wake himself up. He wasn't sure if a cup of coffee was going to succeed where three alarms, a phone call, two Cokes, a kiss from his girlfriend, and the music from the high school marching band passing by outside had failed...but it couldn't hurt to try.

A moment later, a steaming hot cup of coffee slid over to him. The smell alone seemed to invigorate him, giving him the strength to reach out and sip it with a loud slurp. A wave of warmth and bitterness washed over him, tempered by just the right amount of cold cream and fresh sugar.

"Thanks, Edna," he said after taking another grateful slurp. "Appreciate the pick-me-up. Dunno why I'm so tired this mornin'. I hit the hay pretty much soon as I got home last night."

"Weir's working you boys down to the bone again, eh?" said Edna, a twinkle in her eye. Then her face morphed into a frown. "I swear, if he's making you stay past midnight again…"

"Nah, nothing like that," said Billy with a chuckle. "Left the lab at about nine last night. Slept pretty well at first...until some strange hum woke me up. Then it happened again when I went back to sleep, then it happened again, and again, and again, the whole night. Every time I started dozing off, that damn humming noise woke me back up." He looked down at the coffee. "I must be going crazy…"

"Probably just stress," said Edna helpfully. "Nothing a good day's rest can't fix. Take the day off of classes, make a date with Lily, enjoy the...huh. I didn't think there's be fireworks today too. And so early in the day?"

That, along with the return of that damned hum, was what finally woke Billy out of his stupor. "Edna! Get away from the window!"

But that was all he was able to yell out before the sound of screams and shrieks and the smell of burning ozone and boiling blood overpowered everything. Poor Billy watched horrified as metallic disks flew from the sky, raining down red death on everything in sight. So transfixed was he with the carnage that he was barely aware of the black fluid streaking down his face like tears, his skin turning pale and his muscles locking up.

"It was supposed to be a good day," he intoned robotically, "where'd it all go wrong?"

* * *

"_Skyranger Teams, this is Bravo-Zero," _came the authoritative voice of Myron Faulke over the radio. "_Sound off."_

_"Skyranger-One, en route. ETA twenty-two seconds."_

_"Skyranger-Two, flyin' high. ETA two minutes."_

_"Skyranger-Three, inbound,_" said Leon Barnes. Looking back at the eager soldiers, he gave a smirk. _"ETA forty seconds. Don't get too comfy."_

Carter sat tersely in the back of the helicopter moving with haste, carefully snapping an alien power cell into the Laser Pulse Rifle in his hands. His Colt pistol was already fully loaded and resting securely in its holster, his Venn Brace was clamped onto his wrist snugly, and his familiar gray hat was twisted firmly into place on his head.

Once he was sure his gear was mission ready, he passed the time by watching the rest of his squad finish up their prep. The staunchly traditional Knox Dolan had elected to bring no alien gear aside from the backpack and Venn Brace everyone wore - an M14 rifle, a belt of frag grenades, and a couple of disposable M72 LAW tubes were all he needed. Summer Rose, by contrast, brought both a Laser Pulse Rifle and a Laser Pistol, along with a pair of alien-alloy reinforced combat knives tucked into her boots.

_"Roger that Skyranger Teams. Change primary frequencies to lines Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie. Use those to communicate with Bravo-Zero if needed. Good luck, stay safe, and Vigilo Confido."_

Adam Goldstein had his Laser Pulse Rifle in its sniper mode configuration, with a Z-62 machine pistol on his hip in case he found himself in a close-combat situation. Gray Dawson marveled at the compact (but just as deadly) Laser SMG in his hands, making sure his own Colt and his first aid kit were in easy reach in case they were needed. And Raymond Shen spent a moment admiring his own Laser Pistol before he stowed it and started loading shells into his Winchester with a sigh. Carter had to suppress a smirk - if they had recovered an alien shotgun from the Groom Range attackers, he was certain the eager young Engineer would have picked it out in a heartbeat.

"_Skyranger-Three, this is Bravo-Zero Charlie," _came another voice, this one belonging to Officer Chulski. "_You encounter any new information or need tactical advice, give us a call."_

Carter nodded. With three different Strike Teams running three separate missions, it made sense to have a dedicated communication team for each one. It was surprising (and a little flattering) that the Chief communications officer was assigned to his squad - but then again, if Weir was really as important as Faulke said he was, it was only natural he'd have one of his top people monitoring their progress.

His musings were interrupted by a loud swear from Barnes, followed by the sound of explosions and the violent lurching sensation that came from an unexpected aerial juke. "_Scratch that ETA, Bravo-Zero! X-rays have set up some kind of AA defenses! Repeat! Enemy has deployed anti-aircraft artillery!"_

Shit.

_"Skyranger-Three, have you sustained any damage?" _Chulski's tone was concerned, but composed.

_"Negative, Bravo-Zero," _said Barnes breathlessly, "_Got damn lucky there. But I can't see us getting any closer to the dropoff point without getting shot full of holes, let alone move to pickup!"_

"The aliens must have learned from Groom Range," mused Summer, "They didn't waste any time setting up defenses."

Carter nodded tersely, furrowing his brow as he thought of the best way to proceed. If the aliens had anti-aircraft defenses, that made getting in and out much trickier - especially if they had to escort Doctor Weir through hostile territory to a safe pickup location. But if the tower that harassed their Skyranger could be brought down...or even controlled…

"Barnes. How close can you get us to that AA tower?"

The pilot was quiet for a moment, before he looked back at Carter with a grin. "_I can set you down on the southwest side of town, at an intersection about a klick away from the primary cannon."_

"Then put us down there," he said brusquely. "We'll disable the AA tower for you."

"_That'd be mighty nice of you, Whiskey-Three. You sure your team can handle it?"_

Carter gave one more look at his squad, who all nodded in unison.

"We'll be ready for anything."

* * *

Summer was not ready for the first few steps off the Skyranger.

Up until now, her only exposure to Earth had been bombed-out military bases and underground corridors. Sure, she had seen pictures of the world outside the Bureau's fortress, but the technology wasn't perfect, so the fading photographs failed to capture the real thing. This was her first time stepping into a small Earth town, with colors and shapes and people and smells and tastes foreign to her. It should have been a magical experience.

It was anything but.

The small town in front of her was in shambles, and the road she and the rest of Strike Three were traveling down took them straight through the horror show. A colorful banner hung overhead, strung between the buildings with little flags that spelled the word "HOMECOMING!" in bright, bold, joyful letters. She could imagine a marching band playing and parading proudly beneath the banner, while the rest of the town gathered on either side of the road cheering and waving and picking up candy that was flung from the floats. In reality, the members of that marching band lay scattered across the road, blood staining their uniforms and their instruments. The onlookers didn't fare much better - they too were cut down by alien laser fire, their final faces frozen for all time on their still, lifeless bodies. And the floats, the culmination of months of work and hundreds of pounds of flowers, paper, plastic and steel, were reduced to little more than burning, smoldering wrecks, shattered and destroyed like the lives of this small town.

It was almost too much to handle.

Almost.

Summer looked at the rest of her squad, finding some solace in the fact that she wasn't the only one affected by such a gruesome display. Dawson made the sign of the cross on his head and heart, while Shen fumed in silent anger. Knox did his best to conceal his own grief, but a low growl escaped his lips.

"Poor kids," said Adam with a somber shake of his head, "Never stood a chance."

"Why would they attack a town like this?" Dawson asked to no one in particular, "It's a non-military target."

"They did all this just to get to one person," replied Knox. "Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting."

"And if we don't find that person, this town won't be the last one hit," said Carter. "AA Tower is just ahead. Let's move out - and get some payback for this."

Sure enough, Summer could hear the thumping of alien artillery in the distance, which made the ground shudder and her hairs stand on end with every boom. She nodded and took point alongside Carter and Knox, while Shen, Dawson, and Adam brought up the rear. Taking one moment to grab an untouched rose from a wrecked flower wagon, she tucked it into her hair and followed the squad down the road.

Carter raised an eyebrow at the young woman, who just shrugged. "Something to remember them by."

"If that works for you, go ahead," said the gray-hatted man. "Just don't lose it when the shooting starts."

Knox grumbled something about women being "too sentimental for field work," but no one responded. Summer just readjusted the rose and brought her weapon up, sweeping back and forth as she matched Carter's pace.

The rest of the walk through the ruins of Rosemont revealed more of the same type of scenery. Broken buildings, blasted cars, and butchered bodies filled the roads, while the air reeked of burning flesh and ozone. Carter seemed to pay no mind to the destruction around him - like he did back at Groom Range, he seemed to move with a singular purpose, not stopping the squad until they came to an intersection with a stack of burning cars blocking their path.

"Looks like we just hit rush hour," said Dawson with an attempt at a smile. "And here I thought we wouldn't have to worry about traffic."

"...that supposed to be some kind of joke, Golf?" snarled Knox.

"Look, I'm just trying to lighten the mood here," said Dawson defensively. "And I'm not seeing anyone else here make an attempt to -"

"Enough," ordered Carter, scanning his surroundings. Summer followed his gaze to first a coffee shop with its windows blasted wide open, then to a fire escape tucked between two buildings across the street.

"Alpha, head up that fire escape and try to get a visual on the area. See if you can find us a shortcut. Golf, back him up. Everyone else, hold position."

Adam nodded as he stowed his rifle on his backpack, climbing up the wire-thin stairs and ladders to the top of the building. Dawson frowned for a moment, then followed the Recon agent up to the roof. The two men disappeared from sight, and a moment later Adam's voice came through the radio.

"_Alpha-Three here. Got a visual on the AA tower just past that barricade. Looks like you can cut through that coffee shop and come out the other side."_

"Good work, Alpha," said Carter, "You have eyes on hostiles?"

"_Negative, sir. Gonna have to move a bit closer."_

"Get as close as you can without getting spotted," ordered Carter, "We'll head through the shop and figure out our next move from there."

_"Understood."_

_"Grab me a bagel while you're in there."_

_"Seriously Golf?"_

_"Well, no, but -"_

"We'll see what we can get for you, Golf," said Summer with a smile, "though I can't guarantee it'll be fresh."

Dawson laughed. "_See? She gets it!"_

Carter groaned. "Alright. Let's move. Sierra, Romeo, on point. Kilo, watch my six."

The squad nodded and moved into formation, following Summer and Shen as they stepped over broken glass. The inside looked like just as much of a mess as the outside, with one clear difference - at the front table, sitting hunched over with an empty coffee mug, was a man with pale skin and black fluid dribbling down from his eyes.

"Oh Christ!" shouted Knox, aiming his rifle at once. "We got a live one!"

Carter put a hand on the rifle barrel, forcing Knox to lower his weapon. "Hold fire. If it was gonna attack, it would've done so by now."

As if to demonstrate his point, Carter went closer and snapped his fingers a few inches from the slouched figure's face. It gave no reaction, no indication that it acknowledged Carter's existence - it simply sat there, sipping its empty mug, oblivious to the world around it.

"The hell is wrong with him?" asked Knox.

"I've seen this before," mused Shen, "when I was helping Doctor Dresner earlier this week. Apparently these Outsiders use some kind of signal to 'wire' people's minds to make them follow orders. The process is quite...invasive, and doesn't leave much of the person's original mind intact, but it does create a pretty ferocious puppet that can act on whatever they want."

"Like the woman that attacked Whiskey and I back at Groom Range," recalled Summer.

"Or the troops that went berserk in Strategic Command," said Shen with a nod. "Point is, when the alien stop broadcasting that signal, it doesn't undo the damage. It effectively burns out their brains, leaving them stuck doing whatever they were doing in their last few moments of lucidity. It's like...it's like when a record player gets stuck on a scratch. It just keeps repeating itself over and over again until you finally turn it off."

"Is there anything we can do to help them?" asked Summer.

Shen shook his head. "Doc's been working on a cure for these so-called 'Sleepwalkers', but so far he hasn't found anything. Best we can do for now is to knock out any we see and let the recovery teams sweep them up."

"...it was supposed to be a good day," intoned the Sleepwalker robotically, "where'd it all go wrong?"

With a nod, Carter brought back his first and clocked the poor Sleepwalker over the head. The Venn Brace let out a burst of electricity as soon as his fist made contact, stunning the man and sending his unconscious form to the ground. Summer watched as Carter and Knox propped him up against the wall, leaning him over next to a burnt-out jukebox that warbled mournfully.

"I hope we can help them," she said, shaking her head.

"Me too, Sierra," said Shen sorrowfully. "Me too."

The lull in the conversation was suddenly interrupted by Adam's voice coming over the radios.

_"Contacts spotted. Six Sectoids, five Outsiders. One of them's wearing some big blue cape."_

"Sounds like another one of those Shield Commanders," grumbled Carter. "Have you been spotted yet?"

_"Negative. Got a perfect sniping position in a two-story bookstore west of that barricade we passed earlier. I can almost see past their cover completely. Golf's on the ground floor, hiding behind the windows."_

"Any good cover?"

_"Just some trucks that haven't been bombed out," _replied Dawson, "_Plenty of cover for you to flank them from the east. Could even set up a crossfire if you wanted."_

"Perfect," said Carter with a nod, "Thanks for the intel. On my signal, I want Alpha to drop that number of unshielded Outsiders from four to three. Golf pops a smoke as far south of the AA gun as he can throw, and Kilo goes over there and gets the Commander's attention. Romeo and Sierra, you're with me as we advance and take out as many of the bastards from the side as we can, at which point Kilo and Golf join in the assault proper. We catch them in a three-way crossfire quickly and take out that AA tower before they call in reinforcements. Understood?"

A chorus of "understoods" and "yes sirs" sounded off as the soldiers stepped through the shattered windows to the other side of the barricade, moving quickly and quietly into cover. The natural colors of Rosemont gave way to cold metallic steel of an Outsider construct, and the thumping of the alien artillery cannon directly ahead seemed to shake the improvised tower to its very foundations. True to Adam's description, Summer caught a glimpse of a trio of Sectoids setting up some kind of portable laser turret, while a regal-looking Outsider barked orders in an alien language to one of its less-important brethren.

"On my mark," whispered Carter, pulling out his pistol and pointing at the preoccupied Sectoids. Summer nodded, zeroing in on her rifle while Shen flicked off the safety on his shotgun. A tense moment went by as the ambient noise around Summer went quiet, replaced only by the sound of her heart beating in her ears.

"Mark."

A loud _ZAP_ snapped through the air as the Outsider in front of the Shield Commander dropped dead in an instant, followed almost immediately by the hissing of pressurized smoke escaping its canister. Before anyone had time to react, Carter and his team opened fire, leaving the trio of Sectoids with punctured torsos, burnt-out eyes, and a skull filled with more buckshot than brain matter. The remaining forces all raised their weapons and searched for the source, but there was no need to look for very long - a hot shower of lead erupted from the pink smoke, cutting down another Sectoid and sending ripples across the Shield Commander's defense.

"_That one's for Groom Range, you pieces of shit!" _howled Knox at the top of his lungs. "_Go Army, Beat Navy!"_

"Go, go, go!" shouted Carter, racing north towards the tower. Summer and Shen were right behind him, the former firing bursts of lasers in the direction of unshielded Outsiders.

While Knox's volley didn't penetrate the shield, it did have its intended effect as the Shield Commander ordered all forces to fire on the soldier in the pink cloud. Knox ducked down as soon as the lasers started to fly, pushing himself as much as he could against the broken roadblock. With all the focus on the man in the smoke, none of the aliens were paying much attention to the other five troops systematically picking them off. One Outsider was blasted back with a hole in its gut the size of a baseball, another had his brain boiled in an instant from a hundred yards away, and the remaining two Sectoids were incinerated in high volumes of laser fire.

"Kilo, grenade on my mark!" shouted Carter as he smashed his Venn Brace into the face of the last common Outsider. "Aim for the bastard's feet!"

"_Copy, Whiskey! Ready when you are!"_

Summer watched as Carter unslung his own Laser Burst Rifle, setting it to full-auto mode as he popped up from cover and unloaded the entire energy cell into the backside of the Shield Commander. Surprisingly, despite the telltale ripples of the shield being visible, the elite Outsider still stumbled forward beneath the sheer volume of red light. Maybe these shields were meant more for ballistic projectiles, and not for protection from their own weapons? Summer wondered if the Outsiders had ever considered the possibility of their own weapons being turned against them, and what this said about their species and their pride if it was true.

Before she could ponder too deeply, the battle was over when Knox threw a frag grenade at the Shield Commander's feet, landing it perfectly inside his shield and blowing him up into a fine paste. She watched as Carter ordered the squad to regroup as Shen approached the front door of the tower.

"Ah, dammit," growled the engineer, "They've burnt out the door control circuits. Gonna need a minute to rewire it."

"Can't we just blow it open?" asked Carter, already reaching for one of his grenades.

"Don't bother," said Dawson as he walked up. "I don't know what kind of metal they use, but it's tough. Nothing short of Elerium-based explosives is gonna punch through that."

"Guess we'll just have to wait for the kid to fix this," grumbled Knox. Then he looked at Shen. "You _can_ fix this, right kid?"

Shen snarled as he pulled open a panel. "First of all, old man, I'd _really_ appreciate it if you stopped trying to give me nicknames like 'slant' or 'kid'. Second off, of _course_ I can fix this. I just need a minute."

Summer could tell that Knox had something nasty on the tip of his tongue when Adam's voice crackled through the radio again. _"Heads up, incoming objects on our six! Defensive positions!_"

The squad turned, expecting something nasty to come out of the barricade...only to see what could only be described as alien sarcophagi fall from the sky and bury themselves feet-first into the earth. They opened up and hummed with energy, and out stepped an Outsider with two Sectoids on its shoulders. Six of the strange drop pods landed with reverberating crashes, bringing a total of eighteen new enemies for Strike Three to deal with.

"We'll try to buy you as much time as we can," growled Carter, "Get that door open, Romeo! Everyone else, take cover and dig in! I'll take point, Kilo and Sierra on my flanks! We've gotta draw their fire!"

Summer nodded as she charged in after Carter, heading for a slab of alien steel halfway down the battlefield as she tried to avoid the swarm of lasers firing down range. Some of them made contact with her chest and shoulder, but the shield in her pack held firm and kept the worst of the energy from penetrating. Even so, some of the heat still bled through, and as the lasers kept biting into her protective barriers, the heat grew worse and worse. She slid into cover with one final sprint, narrowly missing a coordinated blast from an Outsider that no doubt would have punched straight through the shield.

"Fucking Christ," spit Knox as he slammed his back into the side of a burnt-out truck, "Remind me to buy the Kraut a beer after we get back. That kinda rush woulda torn us to shreds in the old days."

"Just remember to let it recharge between rushes," said Carter as he threw one of his grenades into the crowd, "otherwise you _will_ get torn to shreds. Romeo, how's the door coming?"

"_Just finished bypassing the first circuit,_" came the sound of a very stressed-out engineer, "_I'm going as fast as I can, but have you ever tried to fix something while getting shot at? It's not exactly the quickest job."_

"_Tossing you some smoke, Romeo. Hope it helps!"_

_"Appreciate it, Golf. Hopefully now I can work in - wait, is this YOUR cigarette?"_

"_It's one of Whiskey's, actually."_

"_...goddammit, Golf._"

Carter rolled his eyes as the grenade went off in the crowd, sending shrapnel and four Sectoids flying. "Watch the flanks! Don't let them get past us!"

After looking back to see that Shen was indeed concealed in a cloud of pink fog, Summer crouched behind her cover, resting her Laser Pulse Rifle on top of the steel structure and using it to stabilize her aim. In a series of quick, efficient bursts of laser fire, Outsider after Outsider fell to the floor with burns across their torsos and heads. At one point, the disappointing _click_ informing her she was out of ammo sounded just as a Sectoid was making a sprint to try to flank her; with no time to reload, she instinctively reached for one of her knives and flung it with perfectly-honed precision, burying the bladed tip into the tiny flanker's skull and killing it instantly.

"Holy _shit,_ woman," remarked Knox. "Dunno what I was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't _that_."

Summer could only smirk as she slapped a fresh power cell into her rifle. "What can I say? I'm full of surprises."

"So's the enemy," growled Carter, as he fired off another salvo from his cover. "Stay focused. Romeo?"

"_Took a couple of burns, but I'm alright. Second circuit's done, just one more to go._"

_"Romeo, watch out! Outsider on your five!"_

A distant ZAP sounded out.

_"Got your back, Romeo."_

"_Thanks Alpha."_

Carter shot Knox a disapproving glance, silently admonishing him for letting an Outsider slip past his side of the fight. Growling, Knox stepped out of cover, unloading the rest of his magazine into the rapidly-diminishing crowd of Outsiders and Sectoids. They began to fire back in retaliation, which Carter and Summer took advantage of with well-placed laser shots until finally, only one Outsider remained.

Just as the two leaders finished swapping power cells, however, Knox's shield finally gave out.

"FUCK!" shouted the grizzled soldier as lasers bit into his chest, knocking him back and onto the ground. Summer instinctively yelled out, and lined up her rifle on the last Outsider, intent on making him pay…

...and watched as the offending alien was launched backwards twenty feet, its corpse used as a wedge to shatter the barricade of broken cars.

Summer's blood froze, and she snapped her gaze around, looking for the telltale signs of a Shield Commander. She didn't find the commander...but she did find Carter standing out of his own cover, hand outstretched and glowing with blue energy.

"What...what the fuck…" whispered the leader of Strike Three, staring at his own hand. "Did...did I do that? What _did_ I do...and how did I..."

"Carter!"

The sound of Summer screaming his name seemed to get his attention, snapping him back to reality. Taking in the situation, he went over to Knox and helped him back to his feet, giving him the healing hands treatment as he did so.

"Jesus Christ on a pike," coughed Knox, "now _that_ was a proper dust-up. Haven't had a fight like that in a long time." He nodded his thanks to Carter, then gave a shit-eating grin at Summer. "You're not too bad in a fight...for a woman."

Summer smirked in return. "Same to you...for an old man."

Carter once more rolled his eyes and readjusted his hat, which miraculously had stayed on during the entire fight. "Romeo?"

"_Door is open! We'll scout ahead and disable that cannon."_

_"And maybe see what kind of toys they have," _added Dawson.

Sure enough, by the time Summer had retrieved her knife from the head of the Sectoid, the infernal thumping of the anti-aircraft cannon finally ceased. A wave of relief swept over her, and she felt tension leave her shoulders that she didn't even know was there. A moment later, Barnes's rich voice came from Carter's radio block as he helped Knox swap in a fresh power cell for his shield.

_"Anti-aircraft tower has stopped firing,_" he reported, _"skies are all clear now."_

_"Nicely done, Strike Three,"_ added Chulski, _"Skyranger-Three, plot a course for the Strike team to take."_

_"On it, Bravo-Zero Charlie. Strike Three, stand by."_

Summer watched as the Skyranger zoomed overhead, nearly ripping the rose free of her hair. It hovered past the once-threatening tower, then banked left and vanished out of sight once more.

_"Looks like there's a path right through the bank just up ahead," _reported Barnes, _"It'll take you down a road that goes right to the front steps of Rosemont University."_

"Thanks, Skyranger-Three," said Carter, "Let's move."

After regrouping with the rest of the squad, Summer and Carter led the group through a rather spacious bank lobby. Like the rest of the town, any impressiveness the decorated lobby would have held was ruined by the presence of destruction and decay. Bodies were strewn across the floor, and thousands of dollars worth of paper bills were either on fire or trampled underfoot by the corpses. A pair of Sleepwalkers stood in line for the withdrawal stand, waiting for the next available teller that would never come.

Adam grabbed a few wads of cash off the top of a stack, which earned him a glare from Knox. "Seriously? You're stealing at a time like this?"

"Not stealing, scavenging," said the Recon Agent defensively. "I'm grabbing stuff that might be useful either in the field or back at base. I don't know if you've noticed, but there isn't much of a supply line right now."

"Uh huh...and what exactly have you 'scavenged' so far?"

"Couple dozen fuses, some soap and antibiotics, a few books of matches, and a cord of wire rope." Under Knox's withering glare, he eventually admitted "and some comic books" in a much quieter voice.

"Long as you can carry your own weight, it won't be an issue for now," said Carter before the Commando could open his mouth. "Just remember to take what's needed and not what's most valuable - even if you could get money for it, where the hell would you even spend it?"

Adam looked at the ground for a moment, nodded, then dropped most of the bills he was holding, pocketing only the driest of the paper currency. Knox muttered something about "being stuck with a goddamn klepto" before Summer broke the silence.

"There's voices at the end of the hall," she said with a hint of hope in her tone. "Sounds like it's coming from the vault."

"Survivors?" inquired Carter, "Or just Sleepwalkers?"

"Not sure. They were talking back and forth, so I'm inclined to think the forner."

"Golf and Sierra check it out. Everyone else, make sure the way out is clear. Find that exit Skyranger spotted, and get it open if it's jammed."

The squad nodded and moved out. Summer drew her Laser Pistol, hoping against hope she wouldn't have to use it. Dawson seemed similarly hopeful yet hesitant, as he moved next to Summer with one hand on his first aid kit, the other on his own pistol. The two of them approached the multi-ton steel door with bated breath, and rounded the corner to find…

"Wait! Don't shoot!"

...a dozen or so scared, shaking civilians of various ages, states of dress, and wounds. Some of them were clutching their shoulders or nursing minor burns, while towards the back a small girl whimpered in pain, her leg bent at an unnatural angle. A pair of adults near her did their best to try to soothe her pain, but with blood covering their own hands and shirts it was clear they were nearing the extent of their limited medical knowledge.

Still, they were alive. Which was good enough for Summer.

"Whiskey-Three, this is Sierra-Three," reported Summer over the radios, "Can confirm, we found survivors. Real ones."

"_Copy that, Sierra-Three,_" crackled Carter's voice, "_I'll be there in two mikes to assess. Do what you can to help in the meantime."_

"Roger that, Whiskey-Three. Standing by."

With that, Summer watched as Dawson immediately pulled out his medical supplies, tending to the various injuries the best he could. Summer did her best to aid the Support Agent with her own knowledge of treatment - it was expected for Huntsmen and Huntresses to know at least a little bit of first aid - but it still didn't feel like much. By the time Carter arrived in the vault, it was all she could do to wrap some cold damp cloth around one man's forearm. It wouldn't do much for the laser gash that threatened to tear off at least a quarter-inch of skin, but at least it would make the burns stop screaming as loudly.

"We came to the bank 's soon 's the lasers started flyin'," the young man rasped, "Figgered a bank vault's gotta be the safest place, right? These things're built to outlast them atom bombs, or so the gov'rnment says anyways…"

"You had the right idea," said Summer, slipping into her "authoritative Huntress" voice that she tended to project in situations like this, "and you did what you could, the best you could. That's all anyone could have asked of you. Now we're going to get you someplace safe."

The man nodded and limped off as Carter walked up to Summer, who stood up to meet his gaze. "You sure you don't remember who you are? Cause that's the mannerism of someone who's been a soldier for years right there."

"I suppose some things are just ingrained into me like muscle memory," said Summer with what she hoped was a sheepish smile. "Even if my head forgets who I was, my heart can't let go of it."

"Now if only the two of them could start actually talking with each other. Anyways. What's the status of the survivors?"

"Fourteen total, mix of men and women, all kinds of age ranges. All injured."

"Any of them in critical condition or shock?"

"Not that I could tell. They all appeared to be responsive, and their injuries shouldn't be too debilitating. Except for…well…"

Both Summer and Carter turned to look at Dawson, kneeling over the young girl and pulling some candy out of his vest. Even from this distance, they could tell that it wasn't a reward for being a good little patient - she would need something to bite down on, because the next step in the treatment was going to _hurt_. The woman nearby openly wept into her husband's shirt.

"Right," said Carter, as if he was unaffected by the display, "We'll radio Skyranger-Three for pickup just outside the way we came in. Alpha will be standing there with a flare to guide him, and - "

"That's it?"

Carter balked. "The hell do you mean, 'that's it?' You have an objection, Sierra?"

Summer took one more look over the bank vault filled with suffering civilians, then trained her silvery eyes on Carter - or rather, on his hands, which even now seemed to hum with ethereal energy.

"We could be doing more," said Summer with a glare. "_Should _be doing more."

"We're giving them a way out of this hellhole, what more do you want? Should we give them a free back massage and a complimentary breakfast too?"

The Huntress nodded towards the little girl, then gestured to Carter. Surprisingly he shook his head.

"No. Absolutely not."

"You've healed worse."

"I've healed life threatening injuries. A broken leg isn't gonna kill her."

"But she's hurting all the same," protested Summer.

"We're supposed to keep a low profile. If I go around healing every little scrape and cut like some kind of Christ, that goes out the goddamn window."

"Right," balked Summer, "because we've just been the _epitome_ of subtlety so far."

Carter furrowed his brow. "Listen. We didn't come here for everyone. We came here for one person. That's the job, that's the mission, that's the only fucking reason we're here. Now either call Barnes for a pickup and wait on the Skyranger if your bleeding heart can't handle orders...or put a bandage on it and fall in line. What'll it be?"

Summer opened her mouth to protest, then closed it and stepped back. Dawson stepped forward a second later, pulling a pair of bloodied gloves off his hands.

"Gave her a splint and a sedative," the Support agent reported somberly, "It's the best I could do under the circumstances."

"It'll have to be enough," said Carter with a nod, ignoring Summer's glare. "Sierra and Kilo on point while Alpha waits for the Skyranger. If there's no other objections..._let's move._"

The homeless huntress had _plenty_ of objections, but none of them were voiced on that day.

* * *

The road from the bank to the university was uneventful. Sure, there were a few Outsider and Sectoid patrols roaming the area, but it was nothing a few well-placed satchel charges and a few rounds of focused fire couldn't solve. Carter had to admit, the mission was going well - almost a little _too _well, like the other shoe was just hanging over them like the Sword of Damocles, waiting to drop at any moment.

Naturally, their biggest roadblock came in the form of another pod of aliens guarding the front entrance of Rosemont University. For the most part it was just the standard fare of aliens they'd fought so far; a handful of Outsiders, a half-dozen Sectoids, and some minor fortifications set up to serve as cover. But there was an unusually large alien with greenish-black armor and shoulders as wide as two varsity quarterbacks, with a hairless ape-like face and a glowing green breathing apparatus over their mouth and nose. The beast was armored from head to toe, and it left cracks in the pavement with every stomp it made as it seemingly paced across the courtyard.

"_The hell is that?" _Adam's voice crackled from the radios as the rest of the squad hunkered down behind pillars and fallen rubble. _"I can see it clearly from where I'm hiding, but I don't recognize it."_

"Looks like some kinda big dinosaur," whispered Dawson. Then with a smirk, he added, "Remember Dinky the Ditzy Dino? This looks like his bigger, pissed-off cousin."

Knox groaned quietly. _"_Christ, Golf, why you gotta bring that up? My kids watched that shit growing up. Hated every minute of , looks more like a monkey to me."

"Cut the chatter, Threes," growled Carter, "and get into ambush positions. Sierra and Golf on the left; Kilo and Romeo on the right. Alpha, watch their patrols and let me know if anything changes. I'll radio Bravo-Zero and see if we have any intel."

As the squad clicked their mikes and moved into position, Carter pulled out his two-way and clicked the transmitter. "Whiskey-Three to Bravo-Zero, we're outside the university. Enemy got here first though, and they're patrolling the front entrance. They got some kind of new enemy unit - looks like a giant green muscular hulk. We got any intel?"

_"Sounds like you get to be the first to say hello to one of those 'Mutons', Carter," _answered Officer Chulski.

Carter blinked. "The hell's a muton?"

_"Well, it's the smallest element of genetic material capable of undergoing distinct muta-"_

_"Penny."_

_"Right. Apologies, Officer. From what little we've been able to decipher of their communications, it appears that the Outsiders have enlisted the aid of a number of other alien species in their invasion. You've already seen the Sectoids, which they seem to treat as little more than pets - it would seem they've also hired a number of these 'Mutons' as hired muscle."_

Carter leaned out from cover for a moment. "Well, they've certainly got the 'muscle' part down pat. Anything idea what they can do?"

_"This is the first time we've seen them out in the field," _said Chulski. _"So you boys be careful out there."_

_"You too, Summer! Oh, I mean...Sierra-Three."_

With a small chuckle, Carter shook his head. "Understood, Bravo. Whiskey out."

Clicking off the transmitter and stowing the two-way, the leader of Strike Three looked out to see the squad in position. He could see Knox and Shen peeking out from behind a pair of half-ruined pillars, while Dawson and Summer hid behind a brick-built rectangle that once upon a time might have held a flowerbed.

"Alright Threes, here's how it's gonna go down. Golf throws one of those new 'flashbangs' into the Outsiders and Sectoids, while Romeo throws a satchel charge at the Muton. Kilo, Sierra, and I cut down the chaff while they're stunned, Alpha finishes off whatever's left over, then we all focus fire on the Muton. Golf pops smoke, I'll throw grenades, Kilo fires off a LAW, and Alpha punches any chinks in the armor he can find. If there isn't a weak spot, we make our own. And Sierra…"

Summer's eyes lit up.

"Keep your distance and fire with your laser. You too Romeo. Don't know how dangerous these things are up close, but I'm not taking any chances."

The young woman sighed, her disappointment visible for all to see. Still, she nodded in the affirmative, checking her Laser Pulse Rifle to make sure the power cell was full. Carter took a moment to check his own ammunition reserves, adjusted his hat, and when he saw the rest of his squad give similar readiness signals, he let out a breath.

"On my mark..._mark._"

A cylindrical grenade went sailing high into the air, landing at the feet of an unfortunate Sectoid. An instant later a bright flash enveloped the battlefield along with a high-pitched bang, leaving ringing in the ears and blinding the eyes of anyone who wasn't ready. Another explosion, this one almost inaudible compared to the "flashbang," rocked the Muton's back plating, sending it staggering forward.

"_Holy Moses, Sierra," _rasped Dawson, "_I don't know _what_ you put in those stun grenades, but it's pretty potent!"_

Carter could hear Summer's pride from all the way over here. "_Just a little bit of magnesium and an oxidizer. You could say that it came to me in a..._flash_ of inspiration."_

"Stop flirting and start shooting!" groaned Carter, bringing his alien rifle to bear in full-auto mode, cutting down Outsiders and Sectoids alike. Summer followed suit with bursts of laser fire, followed by a spray of bullets from Knox's position. A single red beam descended from the corner of a nearby rooftop like the finger of God, silencing the last Outsider and leaving only the Muton remaining.

The alien brute had just managed to shake off the impact of the explosion when another one blasted into its side. Then another erupted from its feet, followed up by blasts of laser fire from all directions. Despite the constant, relentless assault, the Muton flinched less and less with each attack, reaching for a small metallic brick on the small of its back even as its armor began to melt off its limbs. With a click and a whine, the brick opened up and its surface panels slid to become an alien looking weapon with angular plates on the sides and three hot, glowing emitters on the front.

"_Shit! Whiskey, get down!"_

Knox's warning came a second too late, as a cone of red lasers swarmed Carter's position, punching right into his chest and knocking him out of cover. Heat burned across his body, but he could tell from the lack of severe pain that the shield had caught most of the energy - but the telltale pop and the pungent aroma of smoke coming from his backpack told him that the miracle probably wouldn't happen again.

"_Carter!"_ called Summer.

"I'm alright!" groaned the leader of Strike Three, hand clutching the shot location. "Shield took the worst of it, but it burnt out from one hit from that thing! We need to make that asshole drop his gun!"

"_Easier said than done,_" said Shen pointedly, "_Looks like it's got some kind of ablative armor, which is designed to chip away when it's damaged. Nothing we have would make a dent in that thing until its armor is completely gone."_

_"So let's start turning up the heat already!"_

"My thoughts exactly, Golf," growled Carter. "I want all lasers firing on that thing at all times! Kilo, Sierra, draw its fire! Alpha, the second that armor's gone, I want that asshole's main hand messed up so bad it can't hold a tin can!"

_"You got it boss!_"

"_Come get some, you big green asshole!"_

It was unclear if the Muton understood the language, but it understood the challenge quite well, steadily advancing on Knox's position as it fired more cones of lasers from its alien shotgun. The Commando and the Engineer close by were forced back into cover by the Muton's blind push, seemingly ignoring the sloughs of armor melting off its frame as Carter and Dawson hosed it down in red lasers. When it got too close to Knox and Shen, Summer rose up from her cover to issue a similar challenge, redirecting the Muton's ire onto her and Dawson and drawing it away from the soldiers across the courtyard.

Carter's weapon began to burn in his hands, as the wasted energy of the lasers began to seep from the heat sink. Despite the pain he forced himself to keep firing, drowning out the Muton and the noise of the battlefield in a haze of red. The smoke grenade that the Support Agent had thrown down wouldn't protect them forever, but it did cover them just long enough for the last drops of molten metal to splash against the floor. Carter knew that it had worked when a burst of assault rifle fire from Knox made the Muton stagger - something that wouldn't have affected it if the armor was still up.

"Alpha! Now!"

A loud high-powered ZAP answered his command, as a red beam from the Recon Agent's position drilled into the forearm of the now-unarmored giant. The Muton roared in fury as it clutched the nickel-sized hole in its wrist, dropping its weapon in the process. Before Carter could command the squad to finish it off, however, it pulled a belt of alien-looking spheres off its chest with its uninjured hand, tossing the entire bandolier towards Knox and Shen.

"Oh shit!" Knox growled as his eyes widened. "_Scatter!"_

And scatter they did, running for their lives in different directions before the grenades went off in a massive chain reaction, blowing the pillars and anything within ten feet of them to smithereens. The Agents were sent flying by the shockwave of the explosion, landing face down on the pavement and smearing blood across the grainy ground.

A loud cry from Carter's left drew his attention to the other developing situation - in the chaos that followed in the explosion, the Muton had charged into the smoke and began swinging its massive fists at whatever it could hit. A backhanded blow from the injured arm sent Dawson flying across the courtyard; a downward slam shattered the alien rifle that Summer used to try to block the strike, leaving her unharmed but unarmed as the Muton came closer for another strike.

The other shoe wasn't done dropping yet, though.

"_Shit!" _Adam's voice through the radio was almost drowned out by the sound of laser fire. "_Sectoid patrol found my hiding spot! They got me flanked!"_

Carter grimaced, then took a moment to mentally step back from the situation. Analyzing the battlefield for a moment, he watched as Knox and Shen pulled themselves back to their feet, retrieving their weapons and clutching their wounds. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Summer backflip to avoid another downward slam, pulling the pair of knives from her boots the moment she was back on the ground. The Muton flared at her, then responded to her confident smirk by pulling out a knife of its own, which instantly extended and glowed red-hot with energy with the pull of a trigger on the handle.

Summer's smirk faltered a little, but her confidence did not. Like some kind of twisted re-enactment of David and Goliath, the woman lunged at the Muton and struck first blood, cutting into the alien calves before falling back to avoid the retaliating strikes. The two melee fighters moved with such swiftness and struck with such power that if Carter didn't know any better he would have sworn the duel was rehearsed. But there was no acting or play involved; both fighters stood on the razor's edge of life and death with every stroke, feint, and counter.

"_Carter! Outsider reinforcements have joined up with those little shits! I'm being overrun!"_

Tearing his gaze away from the frantic melee, Carter began barking orders into the radio. "Fall back, Alpha! Fall back and regroup with us! We'll deal with the bastards if they follow you! Kilo, Romeo, get off your asses and form up on me! We're gonna help Alpha, then Sierra."

_"Understood!_" Adam responded, his machine pistol chattering in the background. "_Oscar Mike!_"

Carter raised his rifle to try to provide suppressing fire for Summer as Shen and Knox arose, but it didn't take him long to realize that the constant firing had melted the barrel. Growling in frustration, he reached for his pistol and tried to aim at the Muton, but the two of them were moving too fast for him to line up a shot. He simply couldn't get a bead on the Muton, at least not without the risk of hitting Summer as well.

Shen seemed frustrated with his lack of options as well. Summer was too close to the Muton to risk throwing a satchel charge, and he had the same problem as Carter when it came to lining up a shot. Finally, he looked down at his shotgun, then looked up with a dangerous expression.

"No," ordered Carter, shooting down the unspoken request.

"But if I can get its attention for just one second - "

"That's all the time it'll need to turn you into a smear on the pavement. Do _not_ engage that thing at close range."

"So you're fine with letting _her_ die, huh?" Shen snapped back.

Before Carter could answer, Adam appeared over the corner of the rooftop, a hail of lasers flying over his head as he slid down a nearby pipe. He hit the ground and sprinted over to Carter and the rest of the squad, firing his machine pistol behind him until the magazine was emptied in a loud click.

"You alright?" asked Carter as he started taking potshots at the advancing Outsiders.

"Yeah, shield took most of the hits," answered Adam as he swapped a fresh magazine into his sidearm, "Just caught me by surprise, is all. What's the plan to -"

A loud scream got the attention of all the men, and they turned to see Summer clutching her thigh, steam rising from the newly-made cut. The Muton capitalized on the injury by reaching out and grabbing her throat, lifting her up and slamming her into the stony wall behind them.

"Hang on!" Carter shouted, but a volley of laser fire forced him back into cover. Next to him, Knox and Adam were also suppressed, unable to move or shoot without exposing themselves to enemy attack.

Pinned down by the reinforcements, Carter could only watch as the knives fell out of Summer's hands, as the alien fist tightened around her neck…

Just like before, he found himself reaching out, staring at his hand as it began to glow...

The Muton suddenly buckled as the sound of a Scatter Laser firing filled the air, and Carter watched as the behemoth swing around to see Shen holding its discarded weapon, the business end still glowing red-hot. It responded with a backhand blow that Shen narrowly avoided, but in doing so it lost its grip on Summer, who fell to her feet. Taking a fraction of a second to gasp for breath, she surged forward and drew her Laser Pistol, pressing the tip against the back of its knee and discharging the entire contents of her cell into the monster. The Muton howled in pain and fell to its wounded knee, dropping its knife in the process. Summer wasted no time in picking it up and swinging it with a scream, slashing the Muton's throat with the red-hot blade before plunging the tip into its chin.

The muscular menace just froze for a moment, choking and gurgling on its own blood and blade, before it finally fell to the ground, dead.

Almost instantly the lasers suppressing Carter and the rest of the squad ceased, and hushed alien chattering carried through the now-empty air. The men peered out from behind cover just in time to see the Outsiders blasting their own brains with their rifles, while the Sectoids cast aside their weapons and curled up into tiny little balls.

"Fucking cowards," spat Knox.

"Hey, I'd probably be doing the same if she wasn't on _our side,_" admitted Adam.

"Yeah, well, at least this way it should be easier to capture them," said Carter as he adjusted his hat. "Use your Venn braces to knock them out, I don't think you're gonna have much resistance. I need to have a few words with the 'heroes'."

The men nodded, electrical generators already humming as they moved to the cowering Sectoids. Carter took a moment to make sure the aliens weren't fighting back, then walked over to Summer and Shen, who were both still panting and clutching their newly-pilfered weapons.

"Well...I hope you two are happy with yourselves."

The two of them looked at Carter, meeting his gaze for a moment. Shen stared at the ground, while Summer just smirked.

"All things considered, yeah, I'm pretty satisfied," she said, giving her new blade a few test swings. "I'd say this is a pretty good-sized knife...still not the biggest I've seen."

"I told you to keep your distance."

"Yeah, well…" Summer looked at the corpse of the Muton, "that thing didn't exactly give me much of a choice, did it?"

With a nod, Carter looked at Shen, who was already fiddling with the alien shotgun. "And how about you? Are you satisfied with your new toy?"

Shen paused for a moment, then nodded tersely.

"Good. Because if either of you disobey a direct order like that again, I'm putting your asses back on the Skyranger and sending you back to the Bureau in handcuffs. Is that clear?"

After making sure they both nodded, Carter went over and pulled the unconscious Dawson back to his feet, his hands glowing as he healed the wounds created by the Muton's fist. Then the whole squad regrouped, grabbed the weapons of the fallen Outsiders to replace the ones they'd lost, and marched up the steps into Rosemont University.

Hopefully the good doctor was worth all this trouble.

* * *

(A/N): One more thing I should mention is that a lot of the agents in the story are either inspired by, or related in some way to, characters from a Discord RP inspired by the RWBY Within series. So if you're interested in talking to other people with a vested interest in the REMCOM Verse (if that's what we're calling this), then be sure to check out DrAmishMD's author page to find out more!

And as always, hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you next time!


	8. The Good Doctor

A/N: So...how about that Remnant Unknown ending, huh?

Anyways, once again, sorry this chapter took so long! I actually got stuck about partway through planning the chapter for the longest time, largely because I wasn't sure how to end it or how to proceed in an interesting direction that didn't just follow the formula I'd accidentally ended up relying upon too much. I actually got a suggestion on how to proceed from another user on the Remnant Unknown discord server (if you're reading this Yankee - hello, and thanks again!) and that lit a fire back under me that made me write most of this within a week. Then Borderlands 3 came out on Steam, and...that set finishing the chapter back another week. (I regret nothing.)

But I'm super proud of how this one turned out! It's about 10k words, so get comfy while reading. I like to think that delivering such big chapters is a way to make up for the long waits in between them...but I'll let you be the judge.

In any case, enjoy!

* * *

Compared to the rest of the town, Rosemont University was relatively untouched. Sure, the clouds of smoke and the smell of burning steel and flesh still permeated the area, but at least the courtyard still had a nice big expanse of lush green grass and well-paved walkways lined with decorative bricks. While it barely qualified as a playground when compared to Beacon's massive surroundings, Summer had to admit, this was a gorgeous sight and a welcome change of pace to the relentless displays of death and destruction.

Too bad the pit in her stomach was ruining her mood.

Shortly after the firefight by the University's entrance, Carter had the team of agents split up and search every level of the main campus building for Doctor Weir. They hadn't found the Doctor, but what they did find was classrooms full of Sleepwalkers, hallways full of bodies, and one or two Outsider patrols that were swiftly dealt with. (Summer in particular couldn't shake the memory of seeing an exam room with half the students bleeding out onto their tests, while the other half endlessly and monotonously filled out the exam that was long over.) Eventually their fortune had changed when they came across a pair of cognizant young women holding each other as they huddled under a lecture hall desk - according to them, Weir was in the middle of an advanced physics lecture when the attack started, which prompted the good doctor to give a different set of instructions instead.

"He said 'stay here and remain calm,'" one of the girls had said as she clutched her terrified, crying friend, "'and don't do anything to draw attention to yourselves. If people come by wearing this insignia - '" she had pointed to a hastily-drawn pentagon with _Vigilo Confido _written on the chalkboard "' - or if they say they're from the Bureau, tell them I'm in the Observatory. Otherwise, don't say a word to anyone.'"

As the squad marched across the courtyard and moved to the Observatory, Summer noticed that Carter's usual intense, focused expression wasn't there. What was there was instead a look of annoyance, of frustration. She could easily guess why - the way the Muton encounter had ended seemed to leave a sour taste in the squad leader's mouth, what with two of his troops going against orders and risking themselves. And although she was grateful to have a proper melee weapon again, and as pleased as Shen seemed to be with his new "Scatter Laser" as Gray had called it, a tiny part of her felt guilty about making Carter angry in the process of acquiring it.

The fact that she had openly challenged his leadership in the bank didn't seem to help matters.

Summer scowled, then moved next to Carter. If there was tension between them, it would be better to clear it up now rather than have it rear its ugly head in a life-or-death situation. Being on a team with Raven _and _Qrow had taught her that lesson the hard way.

"Sir? Can we talk? Just the two of us."

Carter raised an eyebrow, then nodded and signaled the rest of the squad to advance. Knox nodded immediately, Shen seemed somewhat surprised, and Dawson gave a knowing smirk, but all three did so.

"I'd like to apologize for my earlier outbursts and reckless behavior," said Summer sincerely. "I understand your logic for why you chose not to reveal your healing powers at the bank, and while I'm not sure I agree with all of what you said, it was still wrong of me to challenge your authority like that. And about the last firefight… I suppose part of the reason why I insisted on fighting that Muton in melee was because, deep down, I felt I had to prove myself. But it could have gone badly. It almost did. I'm sorry."

For a brief moment, Summer got to witness the rare sight of a dumbfounded Carter. Then he regained his composure, and nodded.

"Wasn't expecting a proper apology...but it's appreciated and accepted. You didn't challenge anything but my opinion back there - as ASL, your input is expected when making strategic calls. As for that Muton...truth is, I had a gut feeling that if anyone could survive going toe-to-toe with that thing, you'd have a better chance than anyone else here. But I didn't want to risk losing you if I was wrong."

Summer smirked. Now that she knew Carter wasn't upset with her, she felt she could be a bit more playful. "So what you're saying is I'm more valuable than the others?"

"Of course not," said Carter, rolling his eyes. "_Every _agent is valuable, is what I'm saying. We just don't have the manpower or the numbers for any agent to take one for the team. Every agent we have makes us stronger. Every agent we lose weakens us."

"Aw," moaned Summer, pouting adorably to her squad leader. "And here I thought you were starting to _like _me."

Carter didn't even dignify that with a response. Not that she blamed him - he made a good point about how valuable the life of a single agent was. Much like the teams of Huntsmen and Huntresses back on Remnant, every agent represented years or even decades of experience and training - and if that was lost, it couldn't just easily be replaced.

"Is that why you ordered Shen against assisting me? And why you did...whatever it was you did to save Knox?"

The grey-hatted man nodded both times, although the second time was more reluctant. "Yeah...still trying to figure out what happened there."

"Well, you threw that Outsider like he was a ragdoll and he -"

"I know _what_ happened, wiseass," hissed Carter tersely, "What I want to know is _how_ it happened."

Summer shrugged. "I just sort of assumed it was the alien artifact at work. Who's to say that supernatural healing is the only power it has? Maybe it _is_ turning you into this...Mega...man?"

Carter shook his head. "_Super_man. And while I wouldn't say no to being able to fly and shoot lasers out of my eyes, the fact remains that whatever this thing is, it's changing me. And I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"Faulke did say we needed to make the alien's weapons our own to win this war."

"I know," said Carter. "And that's why I can't decide if this is taking his advice too literally...or if this is _exactly _what he meant by that."

The two of them walked in silence for a good moment, before Summer spoke up again.

"Well, whatever it changes you into, I'll follow that. Until then, I'm at your command no matter what. You tell me to jump, I jump. You tell me to bring you the head of a Sectoid, I'll serve it up on a silver platter. With butter and salt."

Carter nodded stoically, though Summer could sense his relief - and amusement at the idea of a cooked Sectoid head. Dresner's research hadn't yet concluded on whether or not the aliens were edible, but if the mess hall kept serving variations on beans and potatoes, _someone _was gonna test that hypothesis sooner or later.

"Right...thanks," he finally said after another moment, then nodded again. "I'm sure we'll get some more answers about this later. For now, we have a mission to focus on. Take point alongside Kilo and Romeo. Golf, Alpha, and I will be right behind you."

Summer nodded and turned to go, making sure her new Laser Pulse Rifle was loaded.

"And Summer?"

The silver-eyed Huntress turned to see an even rarer expression on Carter's face.

A smile.

"You don't gotta prove anything to anyone. Least of all to me."

Summer returned the smile, gave a small salute, and moved into her position.

* * *

When Carter and the rest of Strike Three entered the spacious, high-windowed Observatory, the hair on the back of the Strike Leader's neck stood on end as a low humming noise washed over him. It didn't take a genius to guess where it was coming from - Carter wasn't a betting man, but he'd stake every last nickel he still owned on the source being the glowing ball of blue-green crystal suspended by a set of oscillating metallic rings. A few other trinkets and items of interest sat on the nearby desks, including a framed photograph with a pair of scientists, a pair of partially disassembled alien rifles, a globe stuffed with so many push pins it might as well have been a pincushion, and more doctorates and certifications than humanly feasible.

And there, standing in front of all of them, was a man.

Unlike the cowering, terrified civilians the squad had found, this lab coat-clad man didn't seem afraid, despondent, or even annoyed. Instead, the only word Carter could use to describe the gray-haired, middle-aged man was "focused." One unwrinkled hand held tightly to a clipboard stuffed with sheets of paper, while another danced across the keys of an alien-looking terminal. His sharply-chiseled jaw clenched in deep focus, and his dark blue eyes darted from clipboard to terminal at a rapid pace, ignoring the lines of alien code that reflected off his half-moon glasses.

Carter raised a fist to signal his squad to hold, then stepped forward as he cleared his throat. "Doctor Weir, I presume?"

The man looked up and studied the new arrivals, before smiling. "That depends on who wants to know," he said, though it was quite likely he already knew the answer. "Not sure if you've noticed, but there's been quite a few...unfriendly visitors around here."

So he was aware of the situation and was taking precautions. Good. Carter tipped his hat.

"That's part of why we're here, Doctor," he said, "The other part being to get you out of here and take you to the Bureau."

"I suspected as much," said Weir with a nod. "That's why I didn't have my turrets open fire on you as soon as you stepped into my lab." He gestured to a stack of charred Outsider corpses in the corner, remnants of previous attempts to breach his sanctuary.

"Fascinating," said Shen as he lowered his Scatter Laser and moved to inspect the four-barreled laser cannon mounted onto a three-legged armature. "What powers them? And who operates them?"

"No one," said Weir with a proud smile. "Well, technically, I operate them from here using this workstation - " he pointed to the terminal sitting on the desk in front of him, " - which communicates to the turrets using that Elerium core - " now he pointed to the glowing orb behind him " - as an intermediary connection point."

The doctor pushed his glasses into place. "Fascinating material, Elerium," he said calmly, as if the world wasn't burning around them, "Its molecular structure is constantly shifting and changing on a microscopic level, generating large amounts of both kinetic and chemical energy as it continually moves. And its atomic structure is even more intriguing - it has precisely one hundred and fifteen protons and neutrons at all times, yet it is simultaneously gaining and losing electrons at various intervals, undergoing self-ionization and subsequently - "

"Is there a chance we could save the science lesson until _after _we get you out of here?" Carter interrupted with a low growl.

Weir nodded. "Of course. I just need a moment to finish transcribing my research onto this terminal. I'll be ready to go soon, mister…?"

"Carter."

"Do what you must, Mister Carter. I'll let you know when I'm ready."

With a tight nod, Carter directed his squad to spread out and watch the perimeter of the room before he pulled out his two-way. "Skyranger Three, this is Whiskey-Three," he said as he reached into his pocket for a cigarette, "VIP is secured and -"

_"Carter! You need to get out of that building now!_"

The man in the gray hat paused. It wasn't like Barnes to suddenly forget to avoid using names over comms, and it certainly wasn't like him to interrupt. "Right, we were gonna do that anyways. As I said, VIP is secured and we're ready for evac."

_"Forget evac! You've got a new bogey en-route on the Observatory, and it's a big one! ETA thirty seconds!"_

The hairs on Carter's neck stood even straighter as he felt (rather than heard) a low rumble through the stonework. Whatever was coming, it was _big. _And it had Barnes thoroughly spooked.

It hadn't escaped the notice of the other squad members either. Adam paused halfway through putting some lab tools into his pack, Knox tightened his grip on his M14, Shen looked up from his study of the turrets, Dawson made the sign of the cross on his head and heart, and Summer's hand went right for her new melee weapon.

The only one who seemed oblivious was Weir, who was still typing at the terminal just as furiously as ever.

"Doctor, we need to leave now."

"Just a moment, Mister Carter. A few more seconds and -"

"_We don't have a few more seconds! We gotta go now!"_

"Even if we leave right this instant, it takes twenty-two seconds at a full sprint to walk from this room to the entrance," said Weir clinically, not looking up from his station, "and assuming we make that, another thirty-seven seconds to retreat to a minimum safe distance for military-grade explosives. There simply is not enough time to leave the way we came."

"_ETA! Twenty seconds!_"

"See what I mean?"

Carter snapped his cigarette in half. "Then what the hell do you propose we do?"

"Stand in the center of the room."

"...what."

"Is my Australian accent really that bad? I said - "

"Heard what you said, just not sure what - "

"_Now,_ mister Carter. I have a plan."

"_ETA! Ten seconds! Get the hell outta there!"_

With a growl, Carter spun a circle in the air with his two forefingers, and the agents pulled away from the corners of the room and huddled together. Weir spent a few more seconds typing into his terminal, then folded it up into a flat-looking box and joined them, carrying what was once an alien computer like a briefcase in his hand (and grabbing one of the framed photos in the other).

"This better be safe," grunted Carter.

"Safer than the alternative, at least," said Weir as he pushed a few buttons on the exterior of his alien workstation.

"Why? You got some kind of lift to a secret underground lab?" asked Gray with a smirk.

Weir gave a small smile in response. "It's not so much a lift as it is a..._drop._"

Carter was about to ask for clarification when Weir pushed one more button on his case before the entire world exploded around them in green fire, sound, and fury.

And then there was only darkness.

* * *

"_...do sincerely apologize, Mister Xiao Long, but I am just in the dark as you are. If you could please -"_

"I'm not the one in the dark!" roared an angry Taiyang, his tattoos glowing and casting the bedroom in fiery golden light, "_She _is! Because you sent her out there to _die!_"

"_I did no such thing, Taiyang." _Ozpin's voice on the other end was calm. Too calm. "_She understood the risks involved in such an undertaking, and fully accepted that she may not return from her mission."_

"Then I'm sure you wouldn't mind explaining that to a four-year-old and a two-year-old," snarled the enraged Huntsman, "Hell, why not come down and visit yourself? Go on. Explain to a pair of innocent little girls how _you_ killed their mommy."

"_You and I both know that _she _killed her."_ Oz was still using that damn condescending tone. Then he shifted tactics. Tried to make his voice more soothing. _"For what it is worth, I am deeply sorry about your loss. Summer was an amazing woman, a talented Huntress, and one of our best students. The entire faculty of Beacon shares in your grief...as do I."_

"Then why? Why'd you send her out there in the first place? And why did it have to be her?"

"_Because no one else could. Not even me. She was...truly the best of us."_

A fresh wave of hot tears ran down his face, turning to steam as soon as they touched the lines of Auric energy surging across his skin. His hand shook and trembled, and he grabbed the nearest empty bottle and flung it at the wall with a feral yell, smashing it into a million pieces. Taiyang briefly considered doing the same to his scroll, but settled for simply snapping it closed as he sank to the foot of his bed, ending the call with the headmaster of Beacon as he curled up into a ball.

"...daddy?"

He looked up from his arms (which burned every time his tears splashed them, but he didn't care) to see a tiny, shrunken-down clone of his beloved Summer Rose toddle into the room. A pair of silver eyes looked up at him, inquisitive, curious, empathetic. Far too smart for someone so small.

Realizing his outburst had drawn the attention of his youngest daughter, Taiyang closed his eyes and willed his Semblance to deactivate, drawing a deep calming breath as the energy faded.

"It's okay, sweetie," he lied through a forced smile. He crawled over to her, putting his hands on her tiny bare, frail shoulders. "Daddy's just...upset. He'll be okay."

Ruby opened her mouth, and Taiyang hoped against hope that she wouldn't ask the question he knew was on the tip of her tongue.

He was not so fortunate.

"Where's Mommy?"

* * *

_"Where's Daddy? Mommy, why can't I find Daddy?"_

_"He's gotta be out there somewhere. Will? Will, where are you?"_

_"Will? Will? Goddammit boy, get in here! Julia, get away from the flames!"_

_"Mommy, I can't breathe…"_

_"Will! Save us!"_

_"Daddy!"_

Carter's eyes snapped open as he awoke in the barely-lit darkness with a start.

"Ah, nice of you to rejoin us, Mister Carter."

The leader of Strike Three groaned and clutched his head (which was missing its usual hat, much to his annoyance) as he sat up, blinking to try to clear his eyes and focus on the surroundings illuminated by the Venn Brace. He coughed some dust out of his lungs as he looked around, counting the number of people around him and giving a small sigh of relief when he reached six.

Knox and Adam were picking through the rubble and gathering up ammo and weapons that had been scattered in the cave-in, handing them off to Shen for field-stripping and emergency repair. Summer was busy patching up a concussed, bruised, and broken-armed Dawson, using strips of her own suit sleeves in lieu of bandages they didn't have. And Doctor Weir was sitting on a rock directly on his right, a curious expression in his eyes.

"You dropped this, by the way," said Weir, holding out something gray and hat-shaped towards Carter. He recognized it instantly and swiped it out of the doctor's hand, putting it on instantly while scowling. A sense of relief washed over him as soon as his hat was back in its usual place, and his anger faded.

"What the hell happened?" Carter asked with a groan.

"The Observatory collapsed, that's what happened," said Weir with a mirthless smile. "We're currently sitting under the ruins of what used to be the crown jewel of Rosemont University, which I'd imagine would be heartbreaking to see from the outside."

"_Under_ the ruins?" Now that Carter was a little more cognizant, he looked around to see that although rubble and debris littered the floor, there was nowhere near as much as there should be from a collapsed building. Furthermore, they were surrounded by stone-gray walls bathed in green emergency lighting, making everything in the immediate surroundings not lit up by Venn Braces resemble a tinted fever dream.

"Yes. We're currently in the network of emergency tunnels that run under the entirety of Rosemont," explained the doctor, "connecting key locations and providing shelter for people in the case of a nuclear attack. They were constructed in secret shortly after the attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and kept off the town maps for fear of their existence being revealed to Soviet infiltrators. Though lately most people just use them for smoking and smuggling drugs...or they did, anyways."

Carter gave Weir an inquisitive expression. "And how exactly _did_ we get here? I doubt an alien bombardment would be precise enough to knock out the floor underneath us."

"It wouldn't," affirmed Weir with a nod, "which is why I had to improvise. Remember that elerium core I showed you when you met me? I had to redirect its transmissions from the turrets to the plastic explosives attached to the supports under my lab, and give the detonation order. Not the most efficient or safest method of escape, but it worked...and it's certainly preferable to being buried under a hundred tons of steel and concrete, if I do say so myself."

Now Carter could see why Faulke wanted Weir at the Bureau so badly, and why these Outsiders had risked attacking an entire town just to get this one egghead. Setting up a failsafe in their own lab - including planting charges on pillars supporting unsteady ground - in case something exactly like this happened? Carter had to admit, Weir was clever. Paranoid, but clever.

"Wasn't sure when you were going to wake up," continued Weir, "or even _if_ you were. But Miss Rose over there was adamant that you'd live, and the rest of the squad confirmed that your healing factor would kick in. I almost didn't believe them until I saw it myself, as you healed all your wounds in your sleep. Truly remarkable."

"Carter!"

The squad leader's next response was cut off by the sudden pair of bare, strong arms wrapping around him, squeezing tightly despite the bruises and lacerations running up and down the biceps and forearms. Carter winced briefly, partly in surprise at Summer's reaction, and partly in response to the sudden surge of pain from his ribs. Evidently his healing factor hadn't fixed quite everything yet, and the sudden hug must have knocked some of the bones loose.

"Oh, sure, when the _boss_ wakes up he gets a hug," said Dawson with a smirk, "but when _I _wake up all I get is 'where's your kit?'"

Summer pulled away with a roll of her eyes. "Do you want a hug too, Gray?"

"I wouldn't say no. But I'd prefer a good ol' hearty slap on the back from Carter there first."

"Right…" said Carter as he rose unsteadily to his feet. "Nice work with the patch-up Sierra, but I think I might be better qualified."

He went over to Dawson, put his hand on the Support agent's shoulder, and concentrated.

Nothing.

Carter frowned, concentrating again yet yielding no results.

"...uh, Boss? This is getting a bit awkward…I mean, you're a handsome man and all, but -"

"Quiet you." Carter pulled away with a scowl. "I don't understand. Why isn't it working?"

"How many times have you used your regeneration ability on yourself or others today?"

Looking over at Weir, Carter was about to tell him to back off, but he thought the better of it. Instead, he thought back to the events of the day, mentally counting how many times he had healed major wounds.

"Um...five or six? Maybe seven."

"I figured as much. Here."

Carter almost balked at the doctor as he pulled a small tin from his lab coat, opening it up to reveal a stack of military chocolate bars. Weir methodically took one out, snapped a square off the end, and offered it to Carter, who stared at it for a moment before taking it and biting off a corner. Semi-sweet, slightly bitter sensations rushed into his taste buds, and he suddenly became aware of how hungry he was as he took more and more voracious bites.

"Looks like someone's got a sweet tooth," said Dawson with a chuckle. Then he tilted his head. "Those the D ration bars, or the Tropicals?"

"Tropical, of course," said Weir with a smile, "those Logan bars tear up people's insides like ground glass. These have all the caloric density of those old things, with a slightly more palatable taste. Soon as you're done, give it a few moments, Mister Carter. Then try healing Mister Dawson again."

Fighting the urge to ask for another piece, Carter did as he was instructed. The next time he touched Dawson, the familiar glow of healing energy enveloped the Support Agent's wounds, repairing broken bones and undoing the damage to the skull. Grinning in response, Dawson opened up his arms as he turned to face Summer, who despite rolling her eyes once more moved in to embrace him.

"Thanks, doc," said Carter with a nod to Weir.

"Of course, Mister Carter," said Weir as he covered the tin and stowed it back in his lab coat, "I had a suspicion that the abilities from the artifact were tied to your own personal stamina. A little bit of glucose goes a long way."

"Gotta ask, though - you always carry military-grade chocolate around with you like that? I mean, I'm not complaining, but…

Weir chuckled. "It's a habit I picked up in grad school. All men have their vices, whether it be alcohol, nicotine, or fine company. Me, it's military surplus candy. But enough about that. If we're all ready, we should move. I'll take the lead, I know these tunnels like the back of my hand…"

So after gathering up the weapons and taking stock of their remaining ammo, explosives, and medical supplies, the squad moved down the dark tunnels under the guidance of Doctor Weir. Carter and Summer took up positions on either side of him as they walked, keeping their weapons at the ready in case they came across Outsiders who had found the hidden labyrinth. Despite the lights shining from the walls and the Venn Braces, the darkness still seemed suffocating and omnipresent, following their every move as they took a left here, a right there, a ladder now and again. Every sound echoed a thousand times, from the shuffling of boots to the squeaking of rats to the splashing of water.

"These tunnels must go on for miles," said Adam after they rounded yet another corner, "How do you build something this big in secret?"

"Very carefully," said Weir matter-of-factly. "You'll want to take the next right up ahead. It leads to an exit underneath the local radio station."

Gray perked up. "The one across from that one barber shop? We passed that on the way to the University, after we left the bank."

"That's the one."

"Why the hell are we going all the way there?" growled Knox, "Can't we just step out anywhere, call back to base, and ask for an evac?"

"It's not that simple," said Shen, "The Skyrangers do more than just transport us - they also extend the range of our two-way radios and mask the signals we send in the field."

"And I've been trying to hail Barnes for the last half-hour or so," added Carter, "and getting nothing but dead air the whole time. So that means that either this thing's busted, or he's out of range. And Shen says it still works, so that rules out the first option."

"But with the radio station's broadcast equipment, we could send out a message for pickup," finished Shen. "The Bureau has a full comms team that's scanning and searching frequencies to monitor things outside the base and search for survivors. If we can get their attention, we might be able to ask for a pickup."

Doctor Weir nodded. "Exactly. Very good, mister…"

"It's Shen, doctor. Raymond Shen."

"...very good, Mister Shen."

The young engineer seemed suddenly bashful at the praise, which earned an amused chuckle from Carter as the squad continued to move through the tunnels.

Now, more than ever, he could see why Faulke wanted the good Doctor on their side.

* * *

To say that Penny was a nervous wreck would be a definite understatement.

Sure, she understood that field work was dangerous, and that not every mission was a successful one. They were facing an enemy unknown, after all, and even with alien technology and the best training on their side, agents were still only human. So casualties were more than likely, even inevitable from a certain point of view.

That didn't help assuage the shaking in her hands as she turned her comm station to yet another emergency frequency, swallowing the lump in her dry throat as she listened to dead air for the hundredth time that day (evening? Penny wasn't sure what time it was). She nearly jumped when someone placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned around to see the familiar face of Nico DaSilva giving a sympathetic look, patting her twice before walking up to Officer Chulski.

"You should be resting, Agent DaSilva," said the Chief Communications Officer sternly.

"Tried that already," said the man with the moustache wearily, "Didn't take. Even tried putting some music from the radio on, but all I got was this weird automated message that kept repeating itself."

Penny looked up from her comm station. "Message? What kind of message? What station? Could it be survivors? What kind of radio is -"

"Penny. _Enough_."

The small operator seemed to shrink back down into her chair with a face that looked on the verge of tears. DaSilva looked at her, then looked at Chulski, who sighed. "You'll have to forgive Miss Cohen's…"

"There's nothing to forgive," said DaSilva with a wave of his hand. "She's just tired and worried, is all. If you want, I can bring her back to the radio to check it out. Get her out of your hair if you'd like."

"That would be a godsend, Nico," groaned Chulski. "Her shift should have ended six hours ago, but I haven't pulled her away from that comm station for more than five minutes. Maybe you can talk some sense into her."

"I'll see what I can do. Come on, Penny."

Staring at her feet as she rose, the small operator reluctantly followed the taller agent as he led her back to his office. Down the halls, past her and Summer's office, down another set of hallways until they finally arrived. When they stepped inside, DaSilva closed the door and looked at her.

"You're not...really gonna try to talk some sense into me, are you?" she asked timidly, trying to keep her knees from shaking and failing.

DaSilva smirked. "Far from it. Weaver might've been quick to declare Carter and the rest of his squad KIA, but someone like Will and Summer? Collapsing a building on top of them would probably just piss 'em off, and Faulke thinks so too."

"So you think they're still out there too?"

"I got a pretty good feeling about it," replied the leader for Strike Two, "just like I got a feeling about this weird broadcast."

He turned the radio on with a click, and a static-laced monotonous voice started pouring out from its speaker.

"_Tw...ive...cho...ht...ine...wo. Mes...eats. Tw...ive…_"

"Sounds like some sort of automated broadcast," mused Penny, "Probably from a nearby weather station. Sounds really fuzzy, though, like it's been through a few too many relay retransmissions."

"That's what I thought at first too," said DaSilva. "Problem is, if it is just a local transmission, why would it sound so distorted? So I'm thinking there might be more to it than that. Can you clean this up?"

"I'll try my best," said Penny, pulling the pair of headphones around her neck over her ears. "Gonna need to focus, though."

DaSilva stepped back. "Take all the time you need."

With a determined nod, Penny plugged the wire at the end of her headphones into the radio. Loud static flooded into her ears and threatened to drown her in a sea of noise, but a few quick adjustments to the dials managed to reduce it to a soft trickle. With the static contained as best she could, she cranked the volume as high as it could go, pressing her ears as close to the speakers in her headphones and softly repeating to herself the sounds she could distinguish.

A few minutes of careful listening and memorization later, Penny pulled the headphones off and quickly wrote down the message on a nearby sheet of paper. She showed it to DaSilva, reading it aloud.

"_Two...Five...Zero...Echo...Eight...Nine...Two...Message Repeats. _That's what it says, best as I could tell."

"Definitely something automated," observed the agent, "but I'm not sure what it could mean. Just sounds like a list of numbers...and one word."

"Echo," mused Penny, "which stands for the letter E in the phonetic alphabet…"

"Seems like a pretty random letter to include in a message like this."

Penny furrowed her brow, thinking deeply as she wracked her brain for possible explanations. Then her eyes widened.

"It's not random at all, mister DaSilva. It's directions!"

At the sight of the agent raising an eyebrow, she elaborated. "Remember that group of survivors we managed to find based on an automated weather station broadcast a few weeks back? It's just like that! They're using the broadcasting power of stronger frequencies to -"

"-to transmit directions to locate a weaker signal," finished DaSilva with a grin. "A clever broadcaster could cut through most of the alien jamming that way and reach us directly. And if I remember right, we had all our Engineering Agents learn that technique as part of their standard training, so…"

"...so Strike Three _is_ still out there, and they need our help!"

Penny was out the door and sprinting down the halls before DaSilva could even say the word "go", rushing through and around groups of people who just stared in bewilderment. She was barely aware of the agent running to catch up with her by the time she reached the comm station, skidding to a halt and panting to catch her breath.

"Officer Chulski! I need you to set the…" she stopped to take a breath her body needed, "...set the range to two-fifty, the direction to east, and the frequency to…" Another pant. "... eight-ninety-two megahertz!"

The Chief Communications Officer stared at Penny like she'd finally lost her marbles, then shot a glare at DaSilva.

"You heard the lady," he said sternly.

Grumbling under her breath about how she sent Penny with him to distract her, not encourage her, she nonetheless did as she was asked. At first it was just static that poured from the speakers, before a familiar gruff voice took its place.

"..._is Agent William Carter, callsign 'Whiskey-Three' requesting immediate evac from Rosemont, Georgia."_

"Oh my god," whispered Chulski as she covered her mouth.

"Carter!" Penny exclaimed. "Are you alright? What happened? Is Summer okay? What about Adam and Knox and Shen and -?"

_"It's okay, Penny," _came another familiar voice, this one female and motherly, _"I'm alright, and so is everyone else. No one has died yet. We're safe, for the moment."_

The bespectacled operator almost collapsed in relief. She took her glasses off and wiped her eyes, trying to stem the tears that were on the verge of breaking out.

"And the VIP?" Everyone turned to suddenly see Director Faulke in their midst. There was a shuffling sound on the radio, followed by a relieved chuckle.

_"Good to hear your voice again, Myron," _said a new voice, this one male with a slight Australian accent.

Unlike Penny, Faulke showed no outward emotion other than a small smile and a nod. "Likewise, Alan. Whiskey-Three, what's your status?"

_"Alive, for now,_" replied Carter, _"but there's more of those weird structures and the streets are crawling with Outsider patrols. What happened while we were out?"_

"After the new aerial contact arrived and destroyed the Observatory, it began dropping off enemy reinforcements," explained Faulke clinically, "Strikes One and Two were forced to abort their current missions after taking heavy injuries, at which point I gave the evac order."

"Then that huge ship started shooting at us as we retreated, too," added DaSilva. "Gave Nils a bunch of new wounds and vaporized Prescott right in his seat. Dolly barely managed to get her Skyranger back in one piece."

"The new contact, which seems to be some sort of command ship, has been in a holding pattern ever since we left," finished Faulke, "and we can't risk losing any of our Skyrangers to enemy weapons fire. So as long as this Outsider command ship is in the area, extraction is impossible."

"_So we just have to bring it down, then."_

Faulke raised an eyebrow at how quickly Summer reacted to the news, while DaSilva chuckled. "I like your gumption, Sierra, but unless you brought one of those nukes from Groom Range with you in your pocket, I don't think there's much you could do against that."

"Maybe they can't destroy it...but an AA tower could."

Everyone turned to look at Penny, who swallowed the lump in her throat and continued.

"W-well, what I mean is...the Outsiders have constructed additional AA towers after Strikes One and Two extracted. Carter and his squad disabled one of them earlier, so perhaps...it could be reactivated? Have its targeting switched so it attacks the command ship?"

_"Hmmm…" _said Carter pensively. "_...not a bad idea. Doctor Weir? What do you think? Is what she's saying possible? And what are the odds you could pull it off?"_

_"Would you prefer a quantitative answer, or a qualitative one?"_

_"Whichever one's shorter."_

_"_Very _possible, Mister Carter."_

"_Then it sounds like we've got ourselves a plan."_

Another voice groaned, and Penny recognized it as belonging to Gray Dawson. _"So we're taking that AA tower _again? _Man, that's so repetitive! It's just like pre-med all over again…"_

_"You think that's bad?" _growled another voice, this one belonging to Knox. _"Try spending six months in Korea. Go take that post! Now go take it again! Hell, why not take it one more time just for kicks?"_

"You realize that as soon as you make a move on the AA Tower, Outsider forces in the area are going to start swarming you like you kicked a hornet nest," said DaSilva. "Doubly so once you shoot down the command ship. I imagine that won't make them very happy."

_"Of course," _said Carter, _"Which is why those Skyrangers better be as fast as you say they are."_

"I'll send Barnes for pickup as soon as we're done here," said Faulke, "He won't be able to move in for extraction until that command ship is taken care of, but he can maintain a safe distance until it's time. Besides, he feels guilty about not warning you soon enough about the command ship - if there's anyone I trust to bring you back, it's him."

"_Alright. We're gonna mobilize in a few minutes. Gonna have to abandon the radio station though, so you won't hear from us until Barnes is back in relay range. See you soon, Faulke."_

"Good luck out there, Carter. Vigilo Confido."

Penny had just enough time to realize that Faulke had broken his own rule about using code names over the comms before the sound of static filled the air once again. Chulski clicked the station off with a dial, looking down at her desk with an unreadable expression. DaSilva gave Penny a reassuring pat on the shoulder before Faulke broke the silence with clipped, stern orders.

"Chulski, contact the hangar and have them prep a Skyranger. DaSilva, assemble a crew of agents and communications personnel to assist Carter and Barnes with extraction and monitoring comms. I want one of our birds in the air in less than two minutes."

A chorus of "yes sirs" and "aye-ayes" followed as Faulke began to walk away. Penny's gaze followed DaSilva as he headed off, and her feet followed without her mind offering input a moment later.

"Oh, and Miss Cohen?"

Penny froze as she heard Faulke call her name, barely having the nerve to turn and face him.

"...y-yes? Sir?"

The Director gave a rare smile at her.

"Excellent work in locating Strike Three. We're glad to have you here."

Readjusting her glasses (why did they suddenly feel so loose and heavy?) Penny blushed and managed to return the smile.

"Th-thank you sir!"

"Penny? You coming or what?"

Now she turned to face DaSilva, who was grinning. "Boss said to bring a comms operator. You in?"

The small operator nodded and eagerly followed the agent without another word.

* * *

_"Contacts incoming! Shield Commander and an Outsider firing squad!"_

The cold night air quickly became saturated with red laser fire and the smell of burning ozone as Strike Three dug into the road surrounding the Anti-Aircraft tower. Like when they had tried to take it earlier in the day, seizing it had been relatively simple, while securing it proved to be the most hazardous part.

The sole advantage they had now was that Weir was more than capable of reprogramming the tower on his own, and while Carter could tell Shen wanted to stay by the doctor to assist him, the fact was that they needed every gun pointed at the enemy to make sure they didn't overrun their position. Instead, Adam was staying by the scientist as he worked on interfacing his workstation with the central targeting station at the top of the tower - which conveniently happened to make for an excellent sniping perch, allowing the Recon Agent to call out targets and deliver clean headshots with his laser pulse rifle when needed.

"Kilo and Sierra, go up the flanks! Trap them in a crossfire and give 'em hell! I'll take point!

_"Tracking, sir!"_

_"As you order!"_

Knox, Summer, and Carter's rifles all spit lead and lasers as they moved, splitting up the attention of the enemy squad and making their deadly concentrated firing tactics less deadly and concentrated. Even so, the Shield Commander erected barriers around its fellow troops, allowing the Outsiders to return fire without fear of being harmed as they popped out of cover.

Carter hunkered down under his protective barricade as alien lasers slowly whittled it away. "Golf! Could you throw some smoke on my position?"

_"Sure thing, boss - but only if I get to wear the hat on the way home."_

The gray-hatted man rolled his eyes. "I'll think about it."

_"Works for me!"_ chirped Dawson, and soon enough the familiar hiss gave him enough protection to lean out and cut down one of the offending Outsiders with Laser fire. He pivoted to start suppressing the Shield Commander, only to watch as Summer drove a fully-extended Muton blade through the alien's back when it wasn't looking, the glowing red tip cutting clean through the vital organs and emerging from its chest.

_"Jesus Christ, this woman is crazy,"_ grumbled Knox over the comms.

_"Aren't they all, Kilo?" _quipped Dawson playfully.

_"I heard that, boys," _said Summer as she withdrew her blade. _'And you're welcome. Don't want you wasting frags on these things if you don't have to."_

"Good call, Sierra," said Carter approvingly. "Now fall back and let your shield recharge. We'll take it from here."

_"Copy that. On the move."_

Now that the Shield Commander was no longer supporting its allies or trying to fling Carter's troops across the field like ragdolls, the remaining Outsiders went down with just a few well-placed bullets and lasers. Sectoids tried to dash in to close the gap, only to realize why that was a bad idea as Shen's Scatter Laser boiled two of them in one blast of red light, slamming the third one into the ground with his Venn Brace. Knox nodded in approval, then looked to Carter, who nodded in return - without a word, the two of them unslung frag grenades and tossed them at the feet of the Outsider firing squad that was suppressing Summer, sending chunks of them flying in all directions.

"_Alpha, how's the doc doing?"_

"_He says he's decoded about fifty-seven percent of the alien targeting software," _came Adam's reply over the comms, _"Apparently he needs to run the code through a cipher to translate it, so he understands how it works and what he needs to change to make that thing consider the command ship a target."_

"Any chance he could work a little faster?"

"_Perhaps you'd like to translate an alien biocomputer while I run around with a weapon and get myself shot?"_

Carter had no reply.

"_That's what I thought," _said Weir, _"This tower seems to be linked to other AA towers in the area. If I can get control of this one, it's likely I can override the IFF for _all _the towers."_

"Do whatever you think will help, doc," said Carter finally, "Just remember we're on a schedule."

"_I trust your abilities to do your job, Mister Carter. I only ask that you trust in my ability to do mine."_

"Fair enough, I suppose," grumbled Carter as he sent another headless Outsider toppling to the ground. Nothing he and the rest of the squad could do but keep fighting. So that's exactly what they would do, for as long as they could. Take down one Outsider, move onto the next, take it down, move onto another. Repeat until out of ammo or out of targets.

And since the Outsiders showed no signs of stopping their assault, even kicking away the corpses of those that had fallen before them, ammo was the only limiting factor that Strike Three had to deal with...besides getting shot, of course.

_"Whiskey, heads up,"_ came Adam's voice through the comms, _"Outsider and Sectoid reinforcements are coming down from the east. Probably thinking about flanking us."_

_"I can give them something else to think about," _said Summer with an audible grin, _"Just say the word, Whiskey."_

Carter hesitated for a moment, then keyed his mike. "Give 'em hell, Sierra. Alpha, give her some covering fire."

_"Understood."_

_"Try not to have too much fun without me boys!"_

And with that, Carter watched as Summer sprinted off to the right, while Shen and Knox peeled off to the left to fortify defenses. The mysterious young woman drew her blade and extended it with the press of a button and a flick of her wrist, making it come alive with red light and heat. She met the encroaching group of Outsiders and Sectoids head-on, slicing through the chest of one trooper and lopping off the arms of another before dashing back out of melee range, reassessing the situation, and diving back into the fray. Summer seemed to flow like water between each sword strike and thrust, like she was conducting a dance with her alien partners...one that ended in death for the Sectoid or Outsider foolish enough to accept her invitation.

Even from this distance, he could tell she was _smiling._ Like she was enjoying herself.

_Who the hell is this woman?_

Anytime an enemy tried to sneak up on her while she focused her blows elsewhere, a red laser lit up the sky like the hand of God reaching down to smite whatever it touched. Another group tried to move in from the west, but a combination of flashbangs and satchel charges left them easily picked off by coordinated laser fire. And whenever a high-value target entered the fray, all it took was one call-out from Carter before it was obliterated by five different crimson beams.

"_Eighty-nine percent," _called Weir, _"seems pretty rudimentary so far. Once I have the full code, it should just be a matter of switching the 'identify friend-foe' protocol."_

The good news continued as Barnes's voice crackled over Carter's two-way. _"Whiskey-Three, this is Skyranger-One. We're about two klicks from your current location. Holding position for now, but we're ready to move in as soon as you need us."_

_"We've got four agents armed to the teeth with lasers and M14s ready to assist," _came another voice, this one belonging to DaSilva, _"so try to leave some for the rest of us."_

Carter smirked as he watched Summer dispatch the last flanking Outsider with a swift decapitation. "You might have to compete with Sierra for that one, November. Doubt there'll be an Outsider left alive at the rate she's chewing through them."

"_Wouldn't expect anything less from our resident Wonder Woman, Whiskey. See you in a few."_

The string of good luck had to end eventually, and it was marked by Adam loudly cursing over the comms. _"Heads up! Command ship is on the move towards us, and it just dropped off three Mutons!"_

Because of fucking course it did.

Carter furrowed his brow as he growled, peering through the smoke and fire of the battlefield to try to spot the new arrivals. Sure enough, in the distance he could see a huge oval-shaped flying craft lift off into the sky, as three hulking brutish figures began charging right down the street. Not even bothering to take cover, they even went out of their way to bat away cars and trucks, swatting them and setting them flying like they were made of foam. One Muton had almost cost him two agents - against three…

"Doc! Progress?"

"_Ninety-two percent, mister Carter. Try to hold out a little bit longer."_

Too long to assume that they can ignore the Mutons entirely until evac. They would need to be dealt with, one way or another.

"Kilo, Golf! As soon as they come into visual range, hit 'em with a flashbang and a rocket! I've got one grenade left, so I'll use that afterwards to further soften up their armor. Sierra, Romeo? Start moving up to engage in close range, but stay out of sight until after the shrapnel's flown. Then I want you two to take down one - _and only one_ \- of the bastards before the other two can recover, then fall back! Alpha, keep an eye on that Command ship - if it starts moving closer to us, let us know so we have enough time to try to scatter."

A chorus of affirmations sounded over the comms, and Carter moved up from his cover to a more sturdy cement roadblock in preparation. He watched as Summer and Shen disappeared into the night, while Knox and Dawson took up positions next to him.

"You sure it's a good idea to be sending those two in for close range?" asked Knox as he swapped his M14 for a portable rocket tube, "Specially considering how we learned firsthand how much those fists can hurt?"

"Yeah, pretty sure I'll be nursing that bruise for a few weeks," said Gray. "What made you change your tune, Carter?"

"The fact that we're gonna be barraging the group with explosives before they move in," said Carter as he pulled his last grenade from his belt. "They'll hopefully be left blind, deaf, and dumb once the fireworks stop, meaning that Shen and Summer'll be able to get the drop on one of them before they get their heads cleared out. How many rockets have you got left, Knox?"

"Just two," said the former army trooper, "Want me to use them both?"

"Fire one of them now and keep the other warm. Dawson?"

"Three flashbangs left," said Gray, "Plus two smokes. Laser's almost dry, though."

"Better make those shots count, then." Carter heard the sound of two mikes double-clicking, confirming that Summer and Shen were in position. "Alright. Wait for my signal."

Dawson's hand grabbed a flashbang and held it tightly, as he peered over the corner at the trio of brutes that were quite quickly getting closer.

"Hold...hold..._now! Light 'em up!"_

The Support Agent flung the flashbang into the squad of Mutons as they pushed through a stack of cars. The magnesium ignited in a flash, creating a loud bang and a burst of bright light that overwhelmed the relatively small eyes of the Mutons. Knox followed up with a blast from his LAW, sending a rocket-propelled grenade soaring into the crowd and crashing into the leader with a devastating explosion that enveloped the other two behind it. Carter finished up the alpha strike with a frag grenade, showering the group of enemy brutes in shrapnel and pain. When the dust settled, the three Mutons were staggering around on unsteady legs, chunks of armor falling off like stained glass falling out of its frame.

"Romeo, Sierra, go for it!"

Shen and Summer moved in on the Muton closest to them, the Engineer raising his Scatter Laser at close-range and blasting through the weakened armor. The Muton roared and fell to its knees as the cone of lasers tore through its back and side, which gave Summer ample opportunity to use its leg and back as a stepping stone to climb up and drive her sword into the top of its head. With a twist of the blade and a grunt of exertion, the lifeless Muton fell flat as the heated alien blade cut through brain, bone, and bile.

The other two Mutons, though heavily bleeding from the explosive volley, turned towards the two soldiers who had _dared_ to attack one of their own from behind. Summer and Shen made a hasty retreat as the two enemy brutes fired their own Scatter Lasers, the former letting out a yelp of surprise as a grazing shot vaporized her shield. A concentrated stream of red bolts poured out of Dawson's Laser SMG and tracked across the lead Muton, while a controlled burst from Carter's Laser Pulse Rifle plunged into the back of the other one's head. They turned their attention back towards the rest of the squad, covering their faces with their armored forearms as they advanced.

Carter's breath caught in his lungs when he saw the Muton trailing behind pull out an entire belt of alien grenades, hand on the primer button as it got ready to fling the deadly beeping ordinance -

"_Oh fuck no you don't!" _yelled Knox, final LAW already in hand. He launched his rocket straight at the feet of the Muton about to throw its own grenades, making sure it didn't get a chance to do so. Instead, the blast from the rocket set off a chain reaction that detonated every single alien grenade in the Muton's hand, leaving nothing behind of the foe except for a rather large scorch mark and a roar of pain drowned out in explosions.

"Good call, Kilo," said Carter approvingly. "Alpha, doc? Status?"

"_Fully decoded and reassigning targeting parameters. Just a few more seconds."_

"_Perfect timing, too, cause that command ship's coming in hot!"_

Sure enough, as the last Muton roared in fury, Carter could see the house-sized command ship swooping low, its underside glowing with green light and energy as it charged up what he could only assume was its main weapon. He screamed at the squad to scatter, which they most certainly did. Shen and Summer ran like hell into a side alley, while Knox and Dawson made a hasty retreat back towards the AA tower. Carter popped out from behind his cover to do the same…

But a charging Muton slammed its shoulder into him, sending him sprawling across the pavement.

"_Carter!"_

_"Whiskey's down! I repeat, Whiskey's down! Moving to assist!"_

"_Sit your ass down behind cover, Golf! Doc! We need a miracle!"_

"_Almost done…"_

The gray-hatted man (who had somehow kept his hat when he fell) painfully rose as best he could to see the Muton stomping over to him, Scatter Laser in hand and dripping green fluid as the command ship overhead prepared to fire on where the squad had been a moment earlier.

"_Eldik kraksad," _growled the mass of alien muscle and metal, _"Mozaik ectun flokta."_

Carter furrowed his brow as his left hand, without his input or his awareness, raised and extended itself towards the approaching Muton. He almost fought it, forced it to drag him down the road and away from the incoming threat, but then he felt a strange sensation overtake him, like electricity was surging at his fingertips. But there was no spark, no pain, not even a tingle of nerves as ethereal light pooled around his palm, unbidden but not unwelcome.

"Took the words right out of my mouth."

_FWOOM._

In a sudden flash of teal light, a burst of force erupted from Carter's palm and struck the Muton square in the chest, knocking it backwards and sending it flying. At the exact same moment, the command ship's main cannon erupted, spewing a fifteen-foot-wide beam of pure emerald energy that tore up the road, shattered the windows of the nearby buildings with a deafening roar, and vaporized the Muton that came in contact with the stream of death and destruction.

A fraction of a second later, another beam shot out in the night sky, this one as blue as a sunny sky. Then another one flew in from the east, then the west, then three more from the south. All six blue beams struck the floating command ship, making the exterior crackle and splinter and radiate sparks and light before it finally succumbed to the barrage, exploding in a green fireball and raining down bits of metal, debris, and charred Outsider tissue.

The AA towers ceased their assault, and the battlefield fell silent once more, the echoes of explosions still booming in the ears of its participants.

"_That...might have been the coolest goddamn thing I've ever seen."_

"Way _better than how it looks in the movies. Too bad there's no popcorn, though."_

"_Incredible…"_

"_Felt that all the way up here. You alright, doc?"_

"_I'm fine, mister Goldstein. What about the rest of the squad?"_

"_Romeo and I are alright. Got some minor cuts from when the glass fell on us, but we should be fine. Whiskey, you took a pretty nasty fall. You okay?"_

Carter gave no reply, instead merely staring at his hand in shock, fascination, and relief. _So...it wasn't just a one-time thing._

"_Carter? Carter!"_

"_Better answer her, Whiskey. It's rude to leave a lady hanging like that."_

"_Outsider forces are starting to regroup and resume their assault. Skyranger-One, if you're gonna pick us up, it'd better be now."_

"_Understood, Alpha-Three. Head for the base of that AA tower and get ready for pickup."_

"_My boys will give you some covering fire as you retreat. We'll get you all home safe and sound."_

William Carter was barely present in the moment as he felt (or saw?) Summer and Shen help him to his feet and guide him back to the tower. All he could do was watch impassively as Weir and Adam came out the ground floor entrance, walking towards the Skyranger that touched down gently. As the doors slid open and DaSilva ordered Kinney, Redmont, and Bradford to rain down lead and lasers on the approaching forces. As Penny ran out of the Skyranger to greet Summer in a tight, tearful embrace, the latter returning it despite her clothes practically dripping with alien viscera. As Dawson snatched the hat from his head when they all sat down in the transport and wore it with an idiotic grin the entire way back to base.

_First some kind of weird healing factor, now this. What the hell is happening to me?_

"Will."

He finally snapped back to reality to see DaSilva reach forward, laying a hand on his shoulder with a relieved, sincere smile. He looked away from Penny, Gray, and Kinney excitedly handing Summer a _Wonder Woman_ comic (which Adam initially protested against, but resigned to let happen) and into the eyes of Strike Two's leader.

"It's good to see you again, buddy."

William Carter blinked, frowned for a moment, then finally let out a sigh of relief. Then, for the second time that day, he let himself smile at a friend.

"Yeah...you too."


	9. Another Day In The Office

A/N: Hey everyone, Joey245 here! Hope you all are doing alright in this weird world we're living in right now. Stay safe, stay sane, and don't forget to wash your hands! Oh, and enjoy this new chapter, which only took a month to write this time! _Progress!_

* * *

"Doctor Weir?"

Alan glanced up from his report to see a young man almost timidly approaching his desk. Ruffled, unruly black hair, hazel eyes...yes, he recognized him as the Engineering Agent that had rescued him from Rosemont no more than forty-eight hours ago. The doctor smirked, set the report aside, and picked up his teacup, letting the aroma wash over his tired face for a moment.

"Ah, Agent Shen. What can I help you with?"

Shen shuffled a bit. "I was actually about to ask you the same thing. I know we didn't recover all that much salvage from the Rosemont ops, but I was wondering if I could maybe, I dunno...help with whatever Faulke's got you working on?"

Weir chuckled softly, taking a sip of his tea. "Well...what Myron's got me working on is more than just fixing up guns and making sure the Skyrangers stay in peak condition. My research and development is a bit more...elaborate, and I can't simply allow just anyone access. So...I'd need to get to know you a bit better. But first..."

He produced a teapot from under his desk, as well as an additional teacup with golden filigrees lining the handle and cup. In one swift motion, he poured a sweet-smelling fluid into the new cup, and slid it across to Shen.

The young Engineer looked down at the cup of tea that almost magically appeared in front of him, hesitated for a moment, then picked it up and sipped it. After sampling it carefully, his eyes brightened.

"...oh, wow...that's better than the base coffee, that's for sure. What kind is it?"

"Jasmine," said Weir with a smile, his glasses seemingly shimmering in the low light, "It's my favorite, after all, and I've always found a nice cup of tea to be a treat in and of itself. Now then...Mister Shen, tell me about yourself."

Shen shifted in his seat a little bit. "Well...there's really not much to say. When I was really little my parents fled China in the wake of that tide of Communism, coming to America to try to make a better life. World War II wasn't exactly kind to us, especially whenever the Japanese were involved...it left everyone impoverished and scared. Not a good place to raise a child, my mom always used to say. But that was all before my time. Me, I practically grew up with a wrench in my hands, always taking apart stuff and trying to find out how it fit back together. It was...nice, but it wasn't enough to just know how to fix a car or change an electrical socket, you know? I wanted to go to college to become an engineer, but...well, that wasn't really financially possible."

Weir nodded, sipping his tea. "So you joined the Army."

The young man nodded, though this time he had pride in his eyes. "Figured it was the best way to get out there and see what the rest of the world had to offer. I wasn't the best shot in my unit, but there was no one else who knew their way around gears and camshafts better than me."

"I see. So...what do you fight for then?"

Shen blinked. "Huh?"

"You were a soldier before you were an agent, and from what you've told me, you were a builder before you were either of those things. But now you're all three, and everyone needs a reason for fighting a war as...difficult as this one. So I ask you...why are you serving as an agent, when someone as skilled as you could just as easily remain here in the base working on new designs?"

"Huh." Shen had a puzzled expression on his face. "I...hadn't really thought about that."

"Mm." Weir set his teacup down and looked at Shen firmly, but meaningfully. "Then now might be an excellent time to find one. Here, in safety, instead of out there."

"Right…" mused Shen, gazing at the floor thoughtfully. Weir considered speaking to fill the silence that settled between them, but he thought the better of it. He could see the gears turning in the young man's eyes, as he forced himself to question what he was doing - and more importantly, why.

His patience paid off, as the next time Shen spoke, his words held a spark of wisdom that wasn't there before.

"I think...no, I know...I'm fighting for a better world."

Weir raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"A lot of my friends growing up, my family…" said Shen, fingertips curling around the teacup, "...they went through things no one should ever have to suffer. Had things done to them that no human ever has the right to do to another person. It's the way the world was before my time...but that doesn't mean it has to stay that way, right? We can do better. Be better. Make a world that's worth protecting, one that doesn't force people to live in fear or despair...and these Outsiders just might be the best way to make that happen."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, not the Outsiders specifically, but their tech and their designs," added Shen hastily. "Just a few pounds of Elerium can generate more power than Hoover Dam can put out in a year. And whatever they're building their spaceships and guns out of, it's as light as aluminum but as strong as steel. If we can use their tech to solve the problems we're facing...then maybe we can avoid needless wars entirely, or reduce poverty, or start a scientific revolution. Make a better world than the one we have."

And there it was. The dream of literally building a better world. Weir smiled, as if he was looking at his own reflection.

"In that case...I think we'll be spending a lot of time together, Mister Shen."

Shen's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Because that is what _I _am fighting for as well," said Weir, "even if I'm not out there on the frontlines like the rest of you. So…"

Weir stood up and extended his hand. Shen did so as well, shaking the offered hand firmly.

"Welcome to the Avenger Project, young man."

* * *

"Chef's surprise again? Come on, Leo."

"Oh jeez, sorry _princess! _Filet mignon and caviar coming right up! Lemme just dip into my _other_ crate of rations!"

"Ooh, are you gonna put on that apron again? The one with the little hearts on it?"

"Keep talking like that and you might find some drywall in your next meal, Percy."

"Hey, at least that'd add some texture!"

Summer shook her head and let out a soft chuckle at the playful shouting across the mess hall, smiling bemusedly as she took another bite out of her big plate of..._something. _Despite reading up on the history of United States Army rations in Penny's books, she still wasn't entirely sure _what_ she was eating. Maybe it was better not to know. Perhaps in this case, ignorance was bliss.

_Besides_, _it can't be as bad as that time Qrow and Raven tried to make a traditional Mistrali curry for the Vale City Culture Festival, _thought Summer with a reminiscent grin. _Gods...that thing smelled like death and tasted even worse. Poor Ozpin. He had to shut down the entire event after some of the guests mistook that towering pile of rice and meat for a creature of Grimm…_

The thought amused her...for a moment. Then that familiar sadness and longing crept along the edges of her heart, threatening to taint a fond memory and turn it into another bittersweet experience. Another thing she had lost. Another reason she should resign herself to her fate, another reason she should give up going back home to -

"Heeeeeeey. What's a pretty lady like you doin' sitting here all by your lonesome?"

The sight (and smell) of an inebriated agent brought Summer back to reality, and she noticed with some annoyance that the _World Almanac _had been knocked off of the seat across from her, supplanted by the young blonde's unsteady foot as he tried to line up his elbow with his knee, then his hand with his chin. Just next to him, another agent stood, this one thankfully sober, though perhaps that was a curse rather than a blessing - his face was displaying _all _the second-hand embarrassment of his drunk friend's antics.

"Jesus, Jack, I told you. No pick-up lines. Just go up to her and say 'hi.'"

"That wasn't a pickup line! A pickup line woulda been 'heeey, I can see why they call you Summer, cause _damn are you hot!_' I didn't say that…"

"Except you literally did. Just now."

With a shrug, the flirty man turned from his friend and looked back at Summer (or maybe he was looking at the blurry afterimage only he could see?) with a grin. "So...this seat taken?"

It was almost a tempting offer. Almost. The man - Jack, she supposed his name was - was certainly handsome, and radiated confidence even if half of it was from being too drunk to care what others thought. His blonde hair, his blue eyes, his agility and limber form...it was checking all the things Summer usually liked in a man.

Unfortunately for Jack, his romantic exploits would have to wait another day.

"It is taken, unfortunately," she finally responded, "I'm waiting for a friend." She glanced across the mess hall meaningfully, watching Penny try to cross the floor and dodge the people walking around while balancing a plate of food almost as big as her head.

Jack didn't seem too phased by this new information. "Aw, come oooon, flower girl. I can tend your garden real well…"

His wingman, thankfully, had more sense than the inebriated agent. "Jack, come on, she's not interested. Let's get you cleaned up."

Summer smiled sadly. "I'm really flattered, though. Thank you."

Jack grinned as his friend pulled him away by the elbow. "Just remember, flower girl - _once you go Jack, you never go back!_"

"_Oh my god Jack shut up you're literally making it worse._"

Penny set down her plate on the table across from Summer, then retrieved the fallen copy of the _World Almanac_. "I am so sorry about that," she muttered, casting a glance at the blonde man from beneath her glasses. "I would have gotten here sooner, but I had to make sure that the food was the right consistency and it wasn't too -"

"It's fine, Penny," said Summer with a chuckle. "I don't mind it too much. Besides, I can't really blame him. A hundred men stuck underground with no way to contact their wives and girlfriends? I'm surprised it took this long for _someone_ to make a pass at me."

The timid communications operator bit her lower lip, blushed a bit, then started digging into her food as she began reading. A few moments of quiet chewing and page turning ensued, and Summer was content to let the silence settle for a moment as she tried to find the words she wanted - no, _needed_ \- to say.

"I...I don't think I ever thanked you."

Penny looked up from her book. "Hm?"

"I was talking with DaSilva earlier today," said Summer, silver staring into hazel, "and he said that the only reason the distress signal got picked up was because you never stopped looking for one. We probably still would have been out there in enemy territory if it wasn't for you."

The young woman blushed, readjusting her glasses as if she was trying to hide her eyes. "Oh, it...it was nothing...really, it was just what DaSilva thought was a malfunctioning radio that led us to you…"

"True, but you were still clever enough to figure it out. So I wanted to thank you personally for that...in addition to the million other things you've done to make me feel welcome."

Summer put her hand forward and laid it - gently - on top of Penny's, squeezing affectionately. Heat seemed to radiate from the young woman, and the blush deepened until her entire face was a dark crimson.

"...of...of course...y-you're welcome…I'm just...glad I could help my friend." Penny sighed, a sad frown overtaking her smile. "I...don't really have many of those anymore…"

The Huntress, whose own friends were on another planet that was possibly thousands of light-years away, could understand the feeling all too well.

But the pain wasn't as bad when she was with people like Penny.

* * *

"Ah, Herr Carter, thank you for coming here on such short notice."

Doctor Heinrich Dresner watched William Carter come into his labs with his familiar resting scowl, looking around at the dozen or so experiments the German scientist was running all at once. He tipped his hat towards the doctor, then stared at him. "What do you need?"

Straight to business, as usual. Dresner liked that. Best to show him the same courtesy.

"After a number of trials, I believe I have discovered the nature of your 'healing abilities,'" explained the Doctor as he went around adjusting various instruments. "The artifact you are bonded with is continually producing protein chains that seek out damaged tissue cells and 'glue' them back together. What's more, these protein chains appear to be in some form of dormant state until activated by the presence of cellular damage, and can be transferred through both physical contact and by coming into contact with your bodily fluids."

Carter nodded, though Dresner could tell most of his words went over his head (or hat, rather). "Okay. Which means…"

"Which means that, if we had a large enough sample of fluid from you, we could possibly create some kind of healing stimulant that could be used in your absence to treat wounded soldiers in the field. It would not be as effective, as we would need to conserve the samples you provide us...but it could save lives, Herr Carter."

The gray-hatted agent furrowed his brow, as he took in what the Doctor needed from him. Eventually, he nodded. "Okay. So what do you need from me? Do I gotta pee in a cup, or give a blood sample, or - "

"Absolutely not," said Dresner with a tight frown. Why was that _always _what came to mind when he said "bodily fluids" were required? "Your blood is better served staying in your body, and urinary samples largely contain waste products. No, I have something much simpler in mind…"

The doctor swiped the thermos from his desk, giving it a small shake as he handed it to Carter. "Take this and stand in front of that tank. Then drink _all _of the solution. I recommend pinching your nose if you don't like the taste...it makes the coffee taste like ambrosia."

Carter scowled, then did as he was instructed, draining the entire thermos in one long gulp. After it was emptied, he set it down, smacking his lips uncertainly.

"Well?"

"Tastes like watered-down whiskey and cough syrup," reported the agent. "Now what?"

"Lean over the tank," instructed Dresner. "I'll pull the curtain in just a moment."

"Curtain? What do you - _mmrk!_"

Dresner pulled the thin plastic sheet just before something splattered it, and for a good thirty-seven seconds the lab was filled with the sound of heaving and retching. When the coughs and groans turned into pants and moans, the German scientist pulled the curtain back, pleased to see that Carter had followed his instructions and provided a _very_ large sample of material for him to work with.

"What the hell did I drink?" gasped Carter.

"A hydrochloric acid solution with a small amount of arsenic and cyanide," reported the doctor clinically as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves. "With an embittering agent to induce vomiting."

Carter balked at Dresner. "...are you _trying_ to kill me, doc?"

"Kill you? No. Cause enough damage to your esophagus and intestines to activate the healing proteins, allowing the solution to pick them up after regurgitation? That was absolutely my intent, Herr Carter, and I'm glad to say that it was a resounding success. Medical science thanks you for your contributions today."

The agent, who seemed paler than he did a moment ago, scowled at the doctor. "Yeah well...medical science has a funny way of showing its gratitude."

"I will arrange for a gift basket to be delivered to your office shortly," said Dresner dismissively. Then he waved his hand. "Now go. Shoo. You are dismissed."

As Carter left, Heinrich Dresner ignored the grumbling under his breath and collected the sample of "fluid," grinning in satisfaction.

* * *

Kinney never liked the medical wing. Sure, he understood why the Bureau had one, and he had to admit, the one in the base was probably the best one in the country. But even one as advanced as XCOM's still stunk of blood, antiseptics, and anesthetics as a team of dedicated doctors and nurses tended to agents who had taken debilitating wounds fighting the good fight. As someone whose Saturday afternoons consisted of hospital visits to see an ailing grandmother (may God rest her soul), John Kinney always felt uneasy being in such a sterile environment that nonetheless seemed to carry the mark of Death around every corner. (The fact that the Medical Wing contained a morgue just a few hallways away from the surgery room didn't do much to assuage his tension).

Even so, he had a good reason for visiting today.

After getting directions from one of the nurses, he navigated the halls and picked out which of the multitude of doors led to the patient room he was looking for. A few quick knocks, and a nurse came over and opened the door. It didn't escape Kinney's notice that she was _gorgeous_ \- blonde hair, soft facial features, green eyes and long legs - but the protective stare in her eyes and the ring on her finger sent a clear message that she wasn't available.

"Hello Miss Walters," said the Engineer, "Is Tom awake?"

"He is," said the woman with a tight frown, "but right now he's in the middle of a check-up. Maybe you should come back later and -"

"Hey, Liz...is that Kinney? Go ahead and let him in, dear."

The sound of Nils from inside the room seemed to soften Elizabeth's heart, as she stepped to the side with a sigh and reluctantly let the visitor in. Kinney stepped inside, nodding and smiling sweetly to his old friend as he passed her. She gave a fraction of a smile in response.

The Recon Agent was lying on a bed adorned with soft white sheets, hooked up to an IV line and various other medical devices. His bloodied and rank bandages sat in a nearby trash bin, revealing his bare chest as well as the plasma burn that stretched across from his right shoulder to his left hip. Kinney didn't shy away or feel uncomfortable - it was nothing he hadn't seen when the two of them were growing up, though the scars and wounds were definitely new. Despite the pain, Nils greeted his old buddy with a smile, though Kinney noticed he was clenching his jaw as he did so.

"Huh, doesn't look that bad," remarked Kinney as he sat down. "Remind me to propose to a nurse."

Nils gave a strained chuckle. "No way, man. I wouldn't wish this kind of torment on anyone."

"Oh, is that what I am now?" asked Elizabeth as she closed the door, letting down her mask of professionalism in the company of childhood friends, "A 'torment'?"

"Only when you slip the gloves and mask on," said Nils quickly, "Rest of the time, you're an absolute angel. But I still get chills whenever you pick up that...knife thing."

Elizabeth giggled. "I've told you a thousand times, Tom. It's called a _scalpel._"

"And now it's a thousand and one times," said Kinney with a grin. Then it faded. "Hey, Liz? If it's not too much trouble, could I talk to Tom for a sec? Alone?

The young nurse bit her lower lip in frustration, then sighed. "Alright, fine. But he needs to go back to sleep as soon as you're done talking." She hesitated for a moment, then leaned down to kiss Nils on the cheek before she drew away, her heels clicking as she left the room.

Nils, despite being stuck in a bed, seemed like he was over the moon. "She's something, isn't she? After all these years, I still have no idea what she sees in me."

"Well it's not your looks, that's for damn sure," said Kinney with a grin as he shifted in his seat a little. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a train carrying seventy tons of nuclear waste," groaned the wounded Recon Agent. "It hurts, and it burns, but mostly I'm just worried about growing a third leg. But that's neither here nor there. What's going on? You wouldn't be sending Liz out of the room if all you wanted to do was chit-chat."

Kinney's grin faded. "You're right, I wouldn't. I came to say goodbye."

Nils raised an eyebrow. "Goodbye? Is Faulke sending Strike Two out on another op already?"

"Not an op, per se," clarified the Engineer, "More of a...field investigation. Like what we used to do before Groom Range got hit. Right when we first started, remember?"

"Yeah...two years ago," recalled Nils. "And it couldn't wait until I was healed back up to send the full team?"

Kinney shook his head. "Faulke's fielding a smaller team for this. Apparently a full strike team is too high-profile for this kind of investigation. He wants things to be a bit more...covert this time around, so he's sending me, DaSilva, and Redmont."

Nils chuckled, wincing in pain. "He wants this thing handled quietly and he's sending _Nico_? The guy who can whip up a demo charge out of spare cardboard and a toothpick?"

"Guess that kind of resourcefulness is why he's being sent as the lead," said Kinney with a shrug. "As for me, I'll be the comms operator and repairman, while Redmont is our medical officer. We'll be going deep undercover on this - can't let anyone know who we are once we get there."

"I see. And where _are_ you being deployed, exactly?"

The Engineer smirked. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"We're heading to Roswell."

"...you're _shitting _me."

"That was my reaction too," said Kinney, shaking his head in bemusement, "But we've been getting unconfirmed reports of Outsiders trying to set up some sort of shipyard in the area, and that those crop circles that have been popping up in nearby farms are actually the foundations for future landing strips. It sounds like a stretch, but...if it isn't, we can't let that happen."

Nils nodded. "Yeah...the aliens already managed to get a foothold in Rosemont. If they manage to get to the point that they're able to build more ships right here on Earth…"

Kinney nodded, and a silence fell between the two, one that neither of them wanted to be the first to break. Nils, as usual, was forced to break it first.

"When are you leaving?"

"As soon as possible."

"How long will you be gone?"

"No idea."

"Will you be sending updates?"

"Every week, or immediately if we find something interesting."

The last answer seemed satisfactory for Nils, but the first two left a sour expression on his face. Kinney reached forward and pulled his longtime friend into a hug, squeezing as tight as he dared without disturbing the injuries.

"Wish I was going with you, buddy," groaned Nils as he returned the gesture.

"Me too," said Kinney quietly, "But we shouldn't be gone for too long. We'll be back before you know it."

Nils chuckled. "Always the optimist, huh?"

"It's gotten us this far," said Kinney with a soft laugh of his own.

The embrace lasted for a moment longer, before Kinney gently laid Nils back onto the bed.

"Get some rest, okay? Nico and Michael and I will be outside those doors waiting for you when you're all healed up. And then we're gonna have some real food. My treat."

Nils smiled. "Looking forward to it, John…" he mumbled, before he fell asleep again. Kinney took a moment to tuck his friend in before he stood up, gave Elizabeth a hug on the way out, and left the medical wing.

With luck, it wouldn't be the last time he'd be here.


	10. Operation: Guardian

We're hitting a very important milestone with this one - the story has officially hit double digits in the number of chapters! That might not mean very much to you, but it means a lot to me, as this is the first story I've written in _years_ that's lasted as long as this one has. So thanks again for your continued support! It's really encouraged me to keep at it, and it always makes me smile to know that I made someone else smile.

This chapter's based on one of the side missions that you play in The Bureau, which is going to be a recurring thing here in the story. I'm hoping to show off how characters like Carter and Summer are growing, while also showing off the steady progression of abilities and equipment similar to how RWBY Within did it. Other than that, there's really not all that much to say about this chapter, except that it was fun to write! And I hope you enjoy reading it.

* * *

The smell of wheat and corn filled the air as the Skyranger doors opened, and as soon as she stepped off, Summer was hit by a wave of nostalgia. Memories of her youth, of her long summer days spent playing around the farm, helping out in the fields alongside her father and three older sisters. Contrary to her name, autumn had always been her favorite season, as that meant that seeds that had been planted in spring grew up into a bounty of delicious food. It was also usually when Mother came home from her summer-long Huntress assignment, tired and exhausted from fighting Grimm but still mustering the energy to prepare wonderful, filling meals with the season's harvest, filling the Rose home and farmlands with warmth, joy, and peace.

It was good to know that there were places like that here on Earth too.

"You okay, Sierra?"

Summer turned to Carter, who had a hand on his hat to keep it from being blown away by the whirling rotors as the Skyranger departed.

The silver-eyed woman nodded. "Yeah...just...something about this place felt familiar."

"Anything here help jog your memory?" asked Shen hopefully.

Summer shook her head, putting on her best false frown. "Afraid not. It was just a feeling, nothing more." While she hated the idea of continuing to lie about having amnesia, she hated the idea of being executed on sight even more. Which was pretty likely to happen if she were to ever reveal her true history to the Bureau.

Carter didn't seem totally convinced, but he didn't press the issue. "Well try not to let it distract you," he said in his familiar slightly-gravelly voice. "There's more to this farm than meets the eye."

Right...the mission. Summer shook her head to clear it, returning her thoughts to the task at hand. According to Faulke, this farm was actually a disguise for an underground nuclear missile silo, one that had a warhead ready to launch at a moment's notice. Unfortunately for XCOM (and the rest of the world), the Outsiders had taken control of the facility, possibly planning to use the deadly weapons against humanity. Summer had read the effects of one of the first nuclear detonations, and the sheer amount of carnage filled her with revulsion. It was a good thing this world didn't have Grimm - the thought of those kinds of weapons merely existing would have brought them out in _droves_.

But that was neither here nor there. She looked back at the group of agents assembled behind her and Carter, who were in the process of checking their weapons and gear. Dawson and Knox had been assigned on a dispatch job (much to the latter's chagrin) and Goldstein was on a supply run, so Strike Three had a few new faces this time around. Their Commando for this mission was a UN Deniable Ops agent named Leon Van Doorn, who hefted his massive M60 with practiced ease, while an Austrian field medic named Maximilian von Sachsen-Coburg und Gotha (or just "Max" for short) acted as their temporary Support Agent. And instead of choosing a Recon Agent for the last slot in the squad, Carter had opted to bring along a second Engineer to assist Shen - an American demolitions expert named Alex Massey, who was currently in the middle of checking each and every LAW he had brought along.

"So...let me get this straight," said Alex as he pried a piece of debris out the side of a rocket launcher, "The Outsiders cracked the security of over fourteen US Army bases, found a nuclear launch code, and broadcasted it to the secret facility here?"

Carter nodded as he slipped a power cell into his laser rifle. "But the bomb never launched, thankfully."

"And we're here to find out what went wrong."

"Or what went right," said Leon, racking back the slide on his "light" machine gun.

"Such strange times we live in…" mused Max in a thickly-accented voice as he loaded his own rifle - an AK-47, as Alex had so thoroughly explained to Summer on the ride over, "Nothing's as it seems anymore, yes?"

Summer almost smiled at the irony. Almost.

"You just about done checking those things, Alpha?"

"Almost," said Alex, seemingly oblivious to Carter's stare, "Seriously, these things are amazing. All the penetrative power of an M20A1, with about half the length and less than a third of the weight? Yes please."

"We know," said Shen with a bemused smirk. "You told us about four times on the way over."

"And now it's five," said Carter. "Once you finish your weapons check, you're with me and Lima as we sweep the west side of the farm. Sierra, Romeo, and Mike? You two take the east side. Watch out for enemy patrols, and look for some kind of hidden control room. The moment one team spots either of those, tag them and report to the other team to converge. Clear?"

The squad nodded, and began to move. As they were walking, Summer pulled a silver tube off the side of her backpack and snapped it over the sights of her rifle with a twist and a click. The Spectral-Calibrated Optical Perception Enhancer - or just the SCOPE, for short - was just one of the new toys that Alan Weir and the boys in engineering had come up with, using Outsider computer technology and imaging software to collect real-time visual information beyond what the human eyes could see. Not only did this give the Agent using it access to a variety of vision modes - thermal, X-ray, and night vision, among others - it also gave them accurate targeting info to help them line up that perfect shot.

She watched Shen snap his own SCOPE onto his Scatter Blaster on her left, while on her right Max chose to simply sweep the barrel of his AK-47 across his field of vision. Toggling the thermal vision setting, Summer brought the SCOPE up to her eye, crouching behind a stack of hay bales to steady her weapon.

The surrounding area was filtered through a lens of dark orange and black, like she was looking into a world inhabited only by glowing yellow and white figures. Three of those figures began moving up the west side of the farmland, carrying backpacks and weapons that showed up as red. Nodding in satisfaction at the progress Carter's team was making, she shifted her gaze towards the barn, where she saw a handful of four-legged creatures pacing anxiously...as well as at least a dozen alien silhouettes.

"Got eyes on a squad entrenched in and around the barn," said Summer into her radio, "Six Outsiders, four Sectoids, and a Shield Commander...along with three of those little floating robots."

"_Drones,_" groaned Massey. "_Why did it have to be Drones?_"

"_Anyone got a baseball bat?_" Van Doorn quipped. "_Bet the boys down in engineering would love to get a look at one of them that isn't shot to hell and back._"

"_Sierra, we're making our way to you now,_" finished Carter. "_Prep for an alpha strike._"

"Copy that, Whiskey," said Summer as she steadied her rifle, "Ready to fire on your mark."

"As am I," said Max.

"_Romeo? Why not give another one of Weir's new toys a try?_"

Shen nodded, and Summer watched as he pulled a black brick off the bottom of his backpack, deploying a tripod from the bottom and flipping the front open to extend four laser barrels. With the flick of a switch, the assembly hummed as the barrels heated up, the device glowing with red light.

"Turret in place," said the young Engineer, "Barrels are hot and ready to open fire."

The homeless Huntress nodded to Shen, then watched as three human-shaped orange figures made their way through the assortment of granaries, tractors, and scattered stacks of hay bales until they were about thirty yards away from the barn. After confirming targets with Carter, Summer switched off her thermal vision on the SCOPE and turned the targeting display back on. She waited until the reticle was perfectly aligned with the head of one of the Outsiders…

And then she fired, blasting its head off its shoulders in a streak of red light.

"_Let's give 'em hell, boys!"_

Van Doorn stepped out from behind his cover and unloaded into the group of enemies, his machine gun tearing through a pair of Sectoids and shredding the arm off an Outsider. A barrage of lasers finished the armless alien off, then turned and vaporized another one as Carter switched targets with practiced skill. Rifles from two different corners of the world clattered as Max and Massey each took down an Outsider, then the Engineer pulled a LAW off his back and fired a rocket that sent the two final Sectoids flying. The last alien trooper, clearly shocked at how easily its allies had fallen, attempted to retreat back into the barn...only for Shen's turret to reduce it to a smoking husk.

"_Heads up, here come the drones!"_

Sure enough, a trio of ball-like flying robots with glowing optics hovered through the entryway, shifting their armor plating to orient themselves in attack mode. They almost looked adorable, what with their rounded appearance and little grabby claws on the front...until their optics began to hum and project a singular laser beam at whatever they stared at. Worse, they were surprisingly agile, as even Summer's best shots missed the drones, and their miniature shields and toughened alloy armor meant that they could shake off most of what _did _hit them.

"_Lima, get back into cover!_" barked Carter. "_Mike, throw a smokescreen onto Sierra and Romeo, then move into the barn with Alpha! Don't bother shooting the drones if you don't have lasers - those bullets aren't strong enough to punch through their defenses"_

"_Copy that!" _called Massey. _"Oscar Mike!"_

"Understood," said Max as he pulled a smoke grenade out, "Though didn't Sierra say something about a Shield Commander?"

Before the realization could sink in for anyone else, the sound of a powerful laser beam burning through the air echoed across the battlefield, followed by a cry of pain as Alex Massey hit the ground clutching his side.

"_Shit! Alpha went down hard! Took out his shields in one hit!"_

"_Must be the Shield Commander. Find him!"_

Summer toggled thermal vision back onto her SCOPE, peering out of her meager cover as she did her best to duck and avoid the blasts of the ever-annoying Drones. Sweeping from left to right, she looked for the telltale orange silhouette of the higher-ranking Outsider, to no avail. The barn didn't have any other aliens inside, no other targets were registering on her HUD, and even a cursory glance down the road they came revealed nothing. It was as if the Shield Commander had vanished into thin -

_There._ An orange figure lying prone on top of the barn roof, well-hidden behind a wooden lip, with a longer-than-normal laser rifle.

"Got eyes on the Commander! He's on the roof with what appears to be a sniper rifle."

"_Good find, Sierra. Mike, you still got that smokescreen?"_

"Was just about to throw it on Romeo and Sierra, sir."

"_Throw it on Alpha instead, and get him stabilized. Romeo, Lima and I will deal with the drones. And Sierra? Find a way up there._"

"With pleasure, sir," said Summer, toggling her SCOPE back to normal and spotting a drain pipe that went up and along the side of the barn. With a nod at Shen and Max, she bolted across the battlefield, dodging a drone as it fired off one final shot before a laser turret tore it to shreds. Grabbing the pipe and climbing it with practiced ease, Summer scaled the side of the barn in less than a minute, and was on top of the Shield Commander in a heartbeat. One combat boot to the base of the spine to pin it under her heel, one slash of her Muton blade to separate its head from the rest of it, and the sniper was no more.

"Commander neutralized," she reported with a grin, flicking the blood off her sword.

"_So I see. Nicely done."_

"_Let's clean up, boys! Not fair if she has all the fun."_

From her vantage point, Summer had an excellent view of the rest of the fight. Carter blindly fired his own laser rifle out from behind cover at one of the drones, baiting it into the perfect spot for Shen to blast it apart with his Scatter Laser. The final drone zoomed towards Van Doorn and spun in an all-out charge, only for the Commando to knock it out of the air with a well-timed swing of his LMG, bringing the full weight of his weapon down on the Drone and sending it clattering to the ground.

Nodding in satisfaction, Summer hopped off her perch and landed in a soft hay bale, clambering out and approaching Max and Massey. "You good, Alpha?"

"Never better," gritted the American engineer. Then he smirked as he felt the smooth skin. "Those medkits are something else. What's in that stuff?"

Max opened his mouth to speak, but Carter came over and cut him off with a glare. "You do _not_ want to know."

Shen went over and picked up the weapon that had fallen out of the Shield Commander's grip when it lost its head. "A weapon that can punch through our shields in one shot...looks like we're not the only ones upgrading our arsenal."

"Just means more new toys for us to play with," said Van Doorn as he picked up the fallen Drone wreck and put it into his backpack. "I'm sure our Recon Agents will be _very_ happy to have a proper alien sniper rifle."

"Quite so," mused Carter. "Skyranger-Three, any advice from the scientists back at base?"

"_Just finished talking to them now, Whiskey," _came Barnes's clear, cool voice through the radios. Summer smirked. She may not have known as much about radio frequencies as people like Chulksi or Penny, but she had spent a few summers at Beacon interning at the CCT tower. So she knew enough to work with Weir on getting all field agent's "mikes" talking not just with each other, but with the Skyranger's own communications network as well. This meant that anyone in the field could talk back to base, without Carter having to constantly lug around a brick-sized two-way device in the field. It also meant that their Skyranger pilot could join in on their field conversations, whether it was to give aerial intel or to just chime in with a thought.

"And how was the 'Nuclear Missiles 101' lesson?" asked Carter.

"_They said that launching a nuke is a three-step procedure,_" explained Barnes, "_Provide fuel, release failsafe clamps, and specify target. It's all computer controlled - if any step fails, the launch is aborted._"

"Fuel, clamps, and target, got it," said Massey. "Any intel on the location of the computers?"

"_Check the barn first, it's gotta be large enough for that sort of infrastructure,_" replied the pilot, "_If it's not there, check the farmhouse."_

"Copy that," affirmed Carter. "Sierra, take the engineers inside with you and sweep the place. Lima, Mike and I will check the perimeter."

"Understood," said Summer with a nod. "Come on, boys. Let's go."

Pushing the barn doors open and sweeping with her rifle as she stepped inside, Summer got hit with a wave of nausea at the sight of most of the animals slaughtered, the blood of pigs, sheep, and cows splattering the walls and the posts of their pens. She had to suppress the urge to retch at the brutal image - seeing human corpses blasted with lasers beyond recognition was one thing, but helpless farm animals who posed no threat? Even if it was a matter of getting resources, there were more efficient ways of doing so - ones that didn't involve such violence.

Though she took some comfort in seeing one cow standing in the corner, calmly chewing its feed as though nothing was wrong. A trio of pigs, a pair of sheep, and a sleepy old tomcat were also alive and well, sparing one cursory glance at the homeless huntress before deciding she wasn't all that interesting.

"Looks like a normal barn, alright," observed Massey. Then he wrinkled his nose. "Smells like one, too. Except for all the blood, of course."

"Poor things," muttered Shen, shaking his head. Then he looked to Summer. "You okay, Sierra?"

"I'm fine," lied Summer, "Fan out and start looking. Don't be afraid of making a mess - can't make things worse here if we tried, I'd feel."

The engineers nodded and spread out, floorboards creaking under their footsteps as they walked away. Summer stepped towards the back wall, looking around and trying to mentally block out the death and decay that seemed to be present wherever the Outsiders went.

She looked at the cow helplessly. "I don't suppose _you_ would know where the hidden entrance to an underground launch room might be, would you?"

"Mmmmooo." The cow gave a cursory glance at the silver-eyed Huntress, then went back to her lunch.

"Very helpful, thanks." Summer rolled her eyes, then tilted her head in curiosity, looking past the cow and noticing a lever along the back wall that was almost the same color as the wood around it. With a heavy sigh, she climbed over the fencepost, moving inside the pen and stepping into the floor of straw and gods-know-what-else. The cow gazed at her, swishing her tail in some annoyance and flicking her ears...but once she realized that Summer wasn't here to hurt her, she ignored the Huntress that walked across the pen and pulled on the lever with a good solid tug.

Immediately, the back wall opened to reveal a sleek-looking computer room.

"Heh...how about that?" Summer let out a chuckle, rubbing the cow's fur with one hand as she checked the tag. "Thanks for the help...Bessie."

Bessie gave another low moo as Summer clicked her mike. "Strike Three, this is Sierra. Found a hidden entrance on the first floor of the barn along the back wall, moving to investi - "

Another moo, this one much more alarming, warned Summer a second too late.

The huntress turned on the spot just in time to see a blob of swirling black ichor launch itself at her, wrapping itself around her face and clinging to her head. Summer clawed at the entity and tried to pull it off, but she only succeeded in tearing away clumps of spiky gel as more of the stuff flooded into her mouth and nose. She tried to think of her family, of her friends, of anything that might activate her silver eyes, but to no avail. All she could do was fall to her knees as the lack of oxygen began to take effect, as what felt like millions of tiny insects began devouring her face and her eyes and her…

"GET THAT THING OFF HER!"

A powerful concussive force struck the side of Summer's head, sending her slamming into the side of the cow pen with a crunch. The entity attacking her went flying like a pile of mashed potatoes, splattering against the back wall in a sickening squelching noise. This was then followed up by about ten seconds of continual LMG fire, as Van Doorn hosed down whatever was left of her attacker in a shower of hot lead.

"Summer. Summer, come on, look at me."

The world around her was drowned out in the noise of panicked squealing, bleating, mooing, and yowling. She was briefly aware of a pair of arms pulling her coughing, violently gasping form out of the pen, holding her steady until enough oxygen traveled back into her brain to help her process what just happened. "What...Carter...what was…"

"Don't talk right now," said Carter, "just focus on breathing."

"Damn Silacoids," snarled Van Doorn as he snapped a fresh ammo box onto his weapon, "always hiding in corners and cracks just waiting to jump out and shred you to pieces. Encountered some of those things back down in Rosemont. Damn thing almost took Richardson's leg off before Weaver shot it off of him. No idea what they're made of, but at least they die if you shoot them enough times. Problem is there's never just one."

"Then let's check the area for more of them," commanded Carter, hoisting Summer back onto her feet once she got her breath back. "Alpha, Romeo, you two check that computer room Sierra found. Mike and Lima, check the left. Sierra, with me."

Summer, now that she wasn't gasping greedily for air, nodded as the rest of the squad moved out. "Thanks for the save back there," she said gratefully, "And nice work with that push. You been practicing?"

Carter nodded as he kicked over a barrel full of rotten apples. "Figured if this alien artifact is giving me these powers, might as well use 'em. Even if I don't completely understand how they work."

"Well, you won't hear me complaining," said Summer, sifting through a trough full of withered oats. "Keep it up, and I'll bet you'll be throwing around cars like Superman any day now."

"You've really taken to those comics lately, haven't you?"

"_Wonder Woman_'s my favorite."

"Of course it is." Carter rolled his eyes as he clicked his mike. "Romeo, Alpha, any progress with the secret room?"

"_Found the console, Whiskey. Looking over it - oh. Oh no no no…"_

Alarm bells went through Summer's head at Massey's tone of voice. Carter picked it up too. "Engineers, report, what's wrong?"

"_The missile's already been fueled up, and the clamps have already been released! This thing's been programmed with a countdown - we've got twenty minutes to launch!"_

Carter's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Where's it headed?"

"_According to the terminal,_" replied Shen with a hum, "_It's heading...thirty-eight degrees, fifty-three minutes North, and seventy-seven degrees, two minutes West."_

_"Oh my god…_

" breathed Barnes. _"That's Washington D.C.! These Outsiders are gonna try launching a nuke at the capital!"_

"Can you override the launch?" asked Summer.

"_Not from here," _reported Shen, "_This terminal's been locked down. However, according to the notes left here, it looks like there's a secondary control station inside the farmhouse itself - with the entrance disguised as a wine cellar, no less."_

"Then there's no time to waste," growled Carter, "We gotta get to that computer fast!"

_"Minor hiccup, Whiskey," _reported Van Doorn, "_We've got incoming!"_

Sure enough, Summer heard the _THUMP-THUMP-THUMP _of Outsider drop pods landing outside the barn, followed shortly by the sound of ballistic weapons firing back against lasers. She nodded to Carter, and the two rushed outside into the fray.

"_There seems to be some kind of underground accessway that leads from this room to the farmhouse…" _reported Shen, "_Alpha and I will go ahead of you and try to access that terminal."_

"Go ahead, Romeo," answered Carter as he hurled a grenade into a cluster of Outsiders, "We'll meet you inside."

_The people on this world sure seem to like their underground tunnels,_ thought Summer as she calmly snapped off a shot that took off a Sectoid's head. On her left, Van Doorn laid down a steady stream of suppressive fire that kept the oncoming aliens behind cover, while on her right Max flung a flashbang to disorient and blind an Outsider firing squad. Strike Three made their way across the field cautiously, yet with some degree of haste - every minute they spent trading shots with aliens, the closer an unaware city came to being purged in nuclear fire.

"These Outsiders are persistent," mused Max as he shot down what must have been his tenth Sectoid with a shotgun, "Annoyingly persistent. Reminds me of my _opa's_ stories about the Russians."

"They do seem all too eager to keep throwing themselves at us," observed Summer, taking down another Outsider with a well-aimed shot. "But they're not sending any heavy hitters, like Shield Commanders or Mutons. Why?"

"They're not trying to stop us," Carter growled as he threw away a spent power cell. "They're just trying to slow us down long enough for that nuke to launch. We can't get to the house if they keep shooting at us."

Van Doorn snapped a third box of bullets onto his M60, racking back the slide meaningfully. "Well then...what if we gave them something _else _to shoot at?"

Carter looked at the Commando with a raised eyebrow. "You got an idea, Lima?"

"I've got that prototype shield booster that Weir and the boys in engineering cooked up," explained Van Doorn. "I pop that and draw their fire, letting you and Sierra slip up into the house under smokescreens from Mike."

"You'll be eating an entire platoon's worth of lasers."

"I've taken worse. It'd just be another story to tell little Pete back home."

Summer looked from Van Doorn, who was already moving his hand to his Venn Brace, to Carter, who was looking down at the ground with a frown. "Skyranger, are you watching the time?"

"_Been keeping track ever since the Engineers found the console. You've got about twelve minutes to launch._"

Carter swore under his breath. "Fine. But you'd better live, so I can chew your ass out later."

"Chewing my ass out is an activity reserved for Missus Van Doorn, sir," said the Commando with a smirk.

"Mike, stay with Lima and make sure he doesn't bleed out once the shield wears off. Sierra, with me. We'll need to move fast."

Summer nodded, as did Max, who was already pulling a handful of smoke grenades off of his belt. "Still have one charge of that medkit left. Hopefully we won't need it...but it's there."

"Alright. _Move!_"

At Carter's command, Van Doorn slammed the button on his Venn Brace, and immediately a crimson and violet light overtook his frame as the power cell in his backpack began to glow a pale blue light. It almost reminded Summer of a Huntsman powering up their Aura...minus the concerning high-pitched whining as the shield generators strained to keep up with the new influx of energy.

"_COME ON!"_ yelled the Commando as he stepped out of cover. "_I won't go down without a fight!"_

The Sectoids immediately cowered in the face of the angry glowing European spitting machine gun fire at their ranks, while the Outsiders shot back with ineffectual lasers that just seemed to bounce off the barrier. So focused were they on the one-man aggressor that they failed to notice a line of salmon-colored smoke clouds trailing from a fallen tractor to the house, nor did they spot the pair of figures scurrying through the smokescreen until they were already past their defensive blockade. Summer couldn't resist taking a few shots at the aliens as she darted past their cover - the less guns shooting at Van Doorn, the better, even if his overcharged shields could take it.

"Alpha, Romeo, we're approaching the house now," reported Carter as he tossed a grenade into a cluster of Outsiders. "What's your status?"

"_We're coming to a ladder that leads to the house, sir," _came Shen's voice. "_Be warned - SCOPE readings say that there's five Outsiders and two more of those Silacoids just inside the doorway, so expect resistance when you arrive._"

"Copy that," said Carter. To Summer, he turned and said, "Ever breach a house before, Sierra?"

"Not that I'd remember, sir," she replied with a smirk. "You?"

"A few times here and there," said Carter as he adjusted his hat. "Stick close and neutralize the most alert hostiles first. Then move in and secure the objective."

"That sounds like more than just 'a few times here and there,'" quipped Summer.

"Well, a few times..._officially._"

"Ah."

As they made their approach to the rustic-looking farmhouse, Summer took note of the smashed front windows as Outsiders leaned out to shoot at the now-distant Commando. Even from this distance, she could tell that the shield booster had worn off, and was now withstanding the alien barrage with sheer tenacity and willpower. The fact that Max was right there next to him with a smokescreen and a medkit likely emboldened him, giving him the courage and drive to keep up his relentless assault.

But it wouldn't last forever, which was why the Squad Leader and his ASL hastily made their way up the front steps, pressing their backs against the walls as they faced the door.

"Ready, sir?" asked Summer, drawing her Muton blade and extending it to its full length with a snap of her wrist.

Carter nodded as he pulled out his pistol, clicking the safety off. "Ladies first."

The door was knocked off its hinges with a mighty kick from the homeless Huntress, who opened up the breach with a slash from her sword, the red blade humming and leaving a trail of light as it burned through the flesh and armor of the first alien trooper. The two Outsiders by the window turned to open fire, but Carter telekinetically pushed them into each other, confusing them just long enough for Summer to run them both through the torso. Another one ran up from behind and tried to tackle Summer, but two shots from Carter's pistol made its kneecaps explode in showers of crimson, giving the woman the perfect chance to pull out her blade and cut off its head in one clean cut. And the last one charged and swung its rifle at Carter, but he ducked and countered with a punch from the Venn Brace, flooding its body with sparks and sending it flying out the window in a shower of glass shards.

"_Silacoids converging on your location!"_ Massey called out. "_Watch out!"_

The agents spun on their heels and watched the piles of alien goo slither towards them, "mouths" open and ready to strike. Carter simply unhooked one of his grenades and tossed it into the opening of one of the Silacoids, which detonated in a burst of gray bits as the shrapnel tore it apart from the inside. The other Silacoid launched itself at Summer, but this time she was ready - she swung her weapon right as her attacker was lunging in mid-air, the laser-heated blade cleaving the creature in half as it cut through gel and circuits alike.

"Nicely done," said Carter, adjusting his hat.

Summer panted as she retracted her blade, the battery powering down as she did so. "You didn't do so bad yourself. Boys, it's clear up top."

An unseen wooden hatch flipped open, and soon Shen and Massey clambered into the room. The American demolitions expert looked flustered and tense; Shen, meanwhile, seemed as calm and composed as a cucumber in a freezer.

"According to the notes, the wine cellar should be...right over there. Come on."

Shen led Massey back into the house, and when Summer went to follow, Carter put a hand on her shoulder and led her back to the windows. With a nod of understanding, the two of them pulled out their laser pulse rifles and steadied the ends against the window frames, sighting into the currently-flanked aliens firing at Van Doorn and dropping them one by one. It didn't take long for the remaining Outsiders and Sectoids to realize they were caught in a crossfire, and by the time they did, the battle was already over.

"_Okay, we're at the backup computer,"_ reported Shen. _"Hmm...Whiskey, there's good news and bad news."_

"Great, just what we need," groaned Carter. "What's the bad news?"

"_The bad news is we can't stop the launch."_

"Son of a -"

"_The _good _news," _continued Shen, "_is that the targeting systems are still accepting an input. We can also adjust the heading of the missile, to send it somewhere else. But there's no way to abort the launch at this stage._"

Summer looked over at Carter, watching as he frowned with a pensive look on his face.

"_Sir! We're running out of time here, what should we do?"_

"_Patience, Alpha. Let the man think."_

The leader of Strike Three was not in an enviable position. Summer could tell that he was weighing the choices he had in front of him carefully, trying to think of all the possible places to send a weapon of mass destruction. Even if it wasn't being aimed at the nation's capital, that was still a lot of deathly potential energy that had to go _somewhere_, and wherever it was sent, people and plants and animals wouldn't be living there for a long,_ long_ time.

Each minute passed by in an uncomfortable silence, marked by the ticking of a clock that sat on the nearby wall, its pendulum undisturbed by the chaos and carnage surrounding it. Summer wanted to reach out and take her squad leader's hand, or put a hand on his shoulder, or do something, but it was all she could do but watch him struggle with the ethical quandary presented to him.

Eventually, though, Carter spoke up.

"Send it to Groom Range."

The silence on the other end of the mikes was palpable, and it was eventually broken by Shen.

"_...Whiskey, confirm selection. You want it sent to Groom Range?"_

"Damn right I do," growled Carter. "We set off a series of Elerium-enhanced nuclear bombs to cover our escape and tear down the outpost the Outsiders were trying to set up. That place is already a radioactive hellhole - what's one more nuke gonna do?"

"_...understood, sir. Redirecting launch to Groom Range, Nevada."_

The next few moments were silent save for the sound of distant computer keys clacking in the back room, as Summer and Carter kept watch from the windows. Using her SCOPE, the Huntress could see Van Doorn and Max stepping out from the fading smoke cloud, shields depleted and mildly burned but still very much alive and well. The two of them were talking and laughing about something, but their words didn't reach her ears. They didn't have to.

A minute later, an unfamiliar sound caught her attention.

She whipped up her rifle, trying to find it, before Carter chuckled and put a hand on her barrel to lower it. "Relax. It's just the missile going up. Look, over there."

Sure enough, Summer could see a column of smoke rising out of the ground between the barn and the farmhouse, followed by the tip of a sleek-looking steel-gray rocket emerging from a hidden bay door. The missile began to rise out of the earth, slowly at first, then gaining speed as the roaring noise grew louder. Eventually the entire assembly left its housing, propelled by a plume of flame as it flew higher and higher, leaving behind thick gray clouds as it ascended until finally, it disappeared into the setting sun.

Summer had to admit - she'd never seen anything _quite _like that on Remnant.

"_Holy shit. Saw that on the cams from in here,_" breathed Massey.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, your tax dollars at work,_" joked Van Doorn.

"If we ignore the fact that it's carrying a nuclear bomb…" said Summer to Carter, "...I'd almost call that 'beautiful'."

"Least where it's going, it can't hurt anyone," replied Carter before he keyed his mike. "Bravo-Zero, this is Whiskey-Three. Situation has been resolved."

_"Excellent work, Strike Three,_" came the static-laced voice of Myron Faulke, "_We'll send a dispatch squad to keep an eye on the rest of the installation until things can get back to normal. See you back at base._"

Carter clicked twice to confirm the instructions, then sighed in relief. "Just another day on the job, huh?"

Despite this being nothing like her usual line of work, Summer Rose could only nod in agreement.


	11. Like A Thief In The Night

A/N: Holy cheese on a cracker! It only took me _three weeks _to write this chapter?! You better believe it! And no, it's not a case of me just pushing out a sub-par entry - I've been looking forward to writing this chapter for a very long time, and I'm super proud of how it turned out! Not just because it's my first time writing a thriller/mystery style story, but also because it's sort of my thesis statement for what I want to do with Summer Declassified as a whole. I'll explain more in the Author's note at the end, but for now, I hope you enjoy something a little different than my usual fare!

* * *

"_Golly gee, those Eeliens are coming back for another attack! Good thing Captain Thunderclap is here to save us!"_

"_No problem, Little Jimmy! Jangles, hand me the Energy Blaster!"_

_"Ooh ooh ooh ahh ahh ahh!"  
_

"_Tarnations! The Energy Blaster's out of batteries? What else do we have?"_

"_Ooh ooh ooh ahh ahh ahh!"  
_

"_Of course! The Eelectro-net! Jangles, you're a mad genius!"_

Summer Rose snorted as the man on the television swished his black-and-white cape dramatically, before throwing a comically oversized net onto a dozen or so rubber snakes suspended on barely-concealed wires. A man in a monkey suit that was also wearing what appeared to be tinfoil suspenders hopped up and down excitedly, while a woman with clothes made of a similar material swooned into the arms of the titular "Captain Thunderclap." And then there was a child in a baseball cap and a striped T-shirt, looking completely out of place in the cardboard sets and garish costumes, and yet was somehow the most normal thing in the production.

"Man…" said Thomas Nils on Summer's right, reaching over to snatch a handful of popcorn from the table in front of them, "Kinney's gonna be _pissed_ that he missed this broadcast. It's one of his favorite episodes."

"Pretty sure he knows this one by heart," said Elizabeth Walters on Nils's other side, snuggled against her fiance. "Didn't he drag us to see this one, what, seven times when it was playing at the dime cinema?"

"Five times, dear."

"Felt like way more than that."

Summer took another handful of popcorn, watching as a monster made out of foam and rubber jumped Captain Thunderclap, grabbing him by the arms and pulling him around in what an eight-year-old might generously call a "fight" scene. The very notion was ridiculous - not just the show itself, but the idea that someone would use short-range television signals not to relay important information, but to instead broadcast decades-old movie serials that few people would care about or remember. Of course, there was always the possibility of someone slipping in subliminal messaging about the alien threat in between the frames, which was why she, a nearly-healed Nils, and Walters were "monitoring" the transmission to make sure such info wasn't slipping through the masquerade XCOM was working so hard to maintain.

Besides, in such dangerous times, a little harmless fun never hurt anyone, right?

Jangles the Moon Monkey was just about to leap to the rescue of the hero when the power went out.

Elizabeth yelped and clutched Nils as all the lights went dark with a loud hiss and pop. The emergency generators in the medical ward kicked in a moment later, bathing the room in red light as a low humming filled the air.

"Easy, dear," said Nils in an attempt to be reassuring. "It's probably just a normal blackout, nothing to worry about." Despite his words, he tilted his head to the nearby radio box, which Summer went to check with a nod.

With a click of a button, the small little box turned on and began beeping at an irregular pattern. Summer frowned. She recognized it as Morse code from reading Penny's books, but wasn't as well-versed in it as the other agents, what with being from a different planet and all.

"Sounds like it's Morse," she reported as she brought the radio to Nils and Liz with a sigh. "Orders from Faulke, probably. Not sure what it means, though...stupid amnesia."

The nurse reached out sympathetically and took her hand, while Nils pulled out a small notebook. "Well lucky for you, I happen to be an _expert _in Morse code. Give me a minute…and get me a flashlight too."

Summer nodded and did as was asked, shining a light onto the notebook as the Recon agent diligently translated. By the time the message looped a third time, Nils had decrypted a chilling order.

_An Outsider spy has infiltrated the Bureau. Find and secure the Infiltrator._

_Field reports say Infiltrators can change appearance to blend in. Trust no one, not even your friends._

_This is not a drill._

_Vigilo Confido._

The three of them stared at the note long enough for the message to loop one more time, before Summer reached out and turned the radio off with resolve in her eyes.

"I'm going to go find Carter," she announced as she slipped her boots back on, "You two stay here and keep the medical wing on lockdown. Check everyone that got admitted recently, and double-check all the records. Look for discrepancies, inconsistencies, people that shouldn't be here but are. I'll come back and find you when it's all clear."

"I'm coming with you."

Silver eyes looked up to see Nils pulling himself off the sofa with a strained look on his face, doing his best to hide the pain of his wounds. Elizabeth stood up as well, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Thomas, no. Your wounds still haven't finished fully healing. You're just going to risk further injury if you - "

"I can walk and I can fire a gun, Liz. Right now that'll have to be enough. We can't just have people walking around the base alone. That'll raise suspicion."

"Then I'm coming too."

Nils shook his head. "You heard Summer. Someone has to stay here and keep the medical ward safe. Lock it down, rally the staff, don't let anyone in or out. Your word carries more authority here than anyone else's - I'm counting on you to keep things calm and controlled here."

He turned to face her, and cupped his fiancée's face with one hand. "Besides...I _need _you to be safe."

The green-eyed blonde hesitated for a moment, then sighed as she grasped the hand with both of hers, rubbing the calloused palm against her cheek. "I need _you_ to be safe too…" she protested weakly.

Nils gave an attempt at a smile, leaning in to kiss his love on the lips tenderly, holding it for a moment before pulling back. "I will be. I promise."

"I promise too," said Summer as she stepped forward, silver eyes burning with resolve. "As long as Nils is with me, no harm will come to him. I'll make sure of it."

Elizabeth bit her lower lip, cheeks flush, then looked to Summer and nodded. "Okay. Go. I'll engage the security shutters on your way out."

"You're the best, Liz."

"I know," she said, her professional demeanor rising in her voice. "Now get going."

After grabbing another flashlight (and a pair of emergency pistols), Summer and Nils stepped out of the emergency lighting of the medical ward and into the blackened hallways of the base itself. In contrast to the well-furnished offices of the Bureau's lower floors, Sub-Level One was soulless and pale by design, consisting of exposed steel beams and cold, unfeeling concrete. It already had a sense of dread and lifelessness, even when it was fully lit. With only the rays of a pair of flashlights to navigate, the darkness seemed even more oppressive and suffocating.

Summer suppressed a shiver down her spine as she shone her light down one corner, then another. "Which way first? Right or left?"

"Left, definitely," said Nils tersely, "The only thing down to the right is the Morgue, and there's no reason for us to go there. It's a dead end - figuratively and literally."

"What's on the left, then?"

"Mission Prep and the Armory. It's not far from the Hangar, though I'd imagine it's completely locked down by now. Still, we can probably take the stairs back down to find the others - not much reason for people to be here on Sub-Level One when not on ops or recovering from one."

Summer nodded. "It always struck me how...odd it was that the Hangar, Armory, medical ward, and the Morgue are all so close to each other."

"It's...more efficient that way."

Neither agent had any motive to continue that line of discussion, so the walk to the Armory was made in near silence. This, unfortunately, had the side effect of making every single noise feel as loud as a passing train. Summer's quiet breathing roared in her ears, Nils's pained grunts felt as loud as screams of agony, and even the sound of their footsteps seemed to echo across the hallways.

As they approached their destination, though, a new sound broke the spell of silence.

A woman, sobbing and crying uncontrollably.

Summer looked wordlessly at Nils, who nodded in understanding. Pausing only to click the safeties off their pistols, the agents took up breaching positions by the entrance to the armory, guns held in one hand and flashlights in the other. On the silent count of three, they turned the corner and pointed their lights (and their guns) at a shadowy figure to reveal…

"Oh my god," whispered Summer, lowering her weapon. "_Penny?_"

The young comms operator turned a teary, puffy face towards her friend, tearing her gaze away from the bloodied corpse that lay in front of her. She was on her knees with her clothes and glasses splattered with dried crimson, and she seemed physically unable to release the pistol in her shaking hands.

"...S-Summer…" she choked. "I...I didn't mean to...I didn't want…"

Summer instantly started shushing her friend, crossing the room in a heartbeat and pulling Penny into a tight, reassuring hug. The young woman latched on instantly, like the displaced huntress was the only floating object in a raging sea, squeezing with surprising strength despite the fact that every inch of her body was trembling. Nils lowered his weapon as well, crossing the room to examine the body as his partner consoled her friend.

"...looks like it's Agent Percy," said the Recon agent after a moment's inspection. "Or...it was. Poor bastard...two shots straight to the heart. Never stood a chance."

"H-he kept following me," whimpered Penny between shaky, unsteady breaths, "k-kept...accusing me of being the Inf...Infil...Infel...the spy. Wouldn't stop p-pointing a gun at me...w-wouldn't let me talk or leave...I-I stepped forward, and...he started s-shooting. I t-t-threw my book at him, knocked the gun out of his hand, t-tried to grab it so he couldn't use it...and then he was on top of me, trying to choke me...I couldn't breathe...s-so I...I…"

Penny buried her face into Summer's nape, a fresh wave of sobs and tears cascading from deep within. The silver-eyed woman started rocking her protectively, running a hand through light brown hair and wiping tears away with a thumb. Nils said nothing, merely used his fingers to close the fallen Agent's eyelids before standing up to start grabbing weapons and ammo.

After a moment, he cleared his throat, and Summer knew what he meant. She loosened her grip on Penny, pushing the young woman away slightly.

"Listen, Penny. I need to grab my gear. That means I'm going to have to let you go, okay?"

Penny whimpered. "Don't leave me."

"I won't. I'll come right back, okay?"

Summer untangled Penny's hands from around her shoulders, squeezing them palm-to-palm.

"Walk yourself through those breathing exercises I taught you. Close your eyes. The next time you open them, I'll be right here."

The young operator eventually nodded, biting her lower lip as she closed her eyes and focused on inhaling through the nose, then exhaling through the mouth. Summer gave her hands one more gentle squeeze, then stood up and joined Nils.

"What have we got?"

"Not much, I'm afraid," said Nils as he loaded up an M14. "Most of the Venn Braces and Shield Packs are missing, so the other agents must have had the same idea we did."

Summer nodded as she slipped one of the last braces onto her arm, smirking at the sight of the Muton blade on the table. "At least they were considerate enough to leave me my sword."

"Probably thought it wouldn't be as effective in their hands," said Nils with a chuckle. Then, in a low whisper, he added, "We should have grabbed some sedatives on our way out of medical."

"Why? What would you...no."

"Summer."

"I'm not leaving her."

"We can't just bring her with us, either. It's too much of a -"

"_She just had to kill someone to keep herself alive, _Nils," hissed Summer in a harsh whisper. "Think back to the first time _you_ had to kill someone - would _you_ trust yourself to be all alone?"

Nils opened his mouth to prepare a counter-argument, failed to find one, and resigned with a sigh and a shake of his head. "No...no I wouldn't. Fine. She can come with us. But _you're _responsible for her."

"Fair enough," said Summer as she tested her blade, casting a red glow on the room when the alien sword was briefly alive before collapsing it again and stowing it on her hip. She grabbed a few more magazines for her pistol too, while Nils traded his sidearm for the laser sniper rifle recovered from Operation Guardian. Strapping the last Venn Brace to his arm and clipping a radio to his chest, he handed the other communication device to Summer before pulling the charging handle on his rifle back.

"Ready?"

The homeless Huntress nodded in affirmation, then turned back to look at Penny, who looked significantly more composed. She went over and patted her friend twice on the shoulder, and the woman opened her eyes and smiled slightly. She stood up, and Summer took Penny's hand in one of hers as she and Nils exited the Armory.

* * *

Safe behind eight inches of reinforced steel bulkheads that covered his office, Myron Faulke sat in the darkness, the only light coming from the tip of his burning cigarette. It had been two hours after he'd put out the alert that an Outsider had made it inside the base, and there was still no sign of the elusive alien spy. The chatter from agent radios were fed into the small battery-powered speaker on his desk, and every few moments he would overhear an agent confronting one of their fellow friends, suspecting them of being the enemy in disguise. Most of the time, these conflicts were resolved with words. Other times, they were resolved with gunfire.

Either way, despite having nearly every available agent combing the facility, no one had found the spy yet.

Faulke took a long, patient draught of his cigarette, recalling the details that DaSilva's field reports from Roswell contained about this "Infiltrator''. According to him, most Outsiders didn't have much of a propensity for language beyond their own. Some did, though, and those that did were trained in espionage and sabotage, and given a special shield generator that allowed them to mimic the appearance of any member of any species. Quick-witted and ruthless, with the ability to cover up their alien nature...a dangerous enemy, indeed.

And yet...if it was intelligent, and could speak their language…

The Director almost dismissed the notion out of hand. Almost. Keeping an enemy like that around and locked up was a huge risk, and almost guaranteed to bite the Bureau in the ass down the line. Yet if they could communicate with it, break its conditioning, perhaps even convince it to help them…

The optimist in Myron Faulke died decades ago.

But the opportunist was still very much alive, and it was thinking.

* * *

The darkness in the hallways of the offices on Sub Level Two was just as suffocating and oppressive, but at least there was nice hardwood flooring underfoot to better absorb the sound of footsteps. Unfortunately, this also meant that determining the approach of others was harder to do with just audio cues alone, so Nils, Summer, and Penny were forced to rely on their naked eyes and their flashlights to navigate the empty halls.

Well, they weren't _completely _empty.

Summer lost track of how many corpses she and her search party came across, only that her grip tightened on Penny's hand with each one. She recognized most of them - the blonde that had flirted with her the other day, his friend, two of the comms operators, a scientist, and a Recon agent - but she didn't see the bodies of any of the higher-ups or of anyone from Strike Three. She thanked her lucky stars that the Infiltrator hadn't taken any of her friends yet...before immediately feeling guilty about feeling grateful.

It didn't escape her notice that the main cause of death seemed to be conventional bullet wounds.

_Divide them, tear them apart, _she thought, _plant seeds of doubt, and they'll turn on each other. Salem would be so proud right now._

"You alright, Summer?"

Nils's concerned whisper almost spooked the second life right out of her, and she whirled to face the Recon agent before regaining control of her reflexes. She nodded tersely, and Nils put a hand on her shoulder in understanding.

Then he looked to the newest person to join their little search party. "And how about you, Penny? Feeling better?"

Penny, by comparison, was doing a remarkable job of keeping her panic in check. Compared to how she'd been in the Armory, she was focused, calm, and mostly composed. Summer had to admit, whatever Penny was doing to keep herself from freaking out, it was working in spades. She nodded at Nils with a small smile, using her other hand to adjust her glasses somewhat.

"Alright, good," said Nils as he pulled back with a reassuring smile. "Let's circle back towards the East offices, and from there we'll -"

"_You're not going anywhere, you alien son of a bitch."_

The click of a revolver hammer locking into place was almost deafening compared to the silence, and Nils bristled at the sensation of a smoothly polished barrel being pressed against the back of his head. Summer instantly drew her pistol in a heartbeat, aiming it and her light on the person holding Nils at gunpoint. The flashlight revealed a grizzled looking man in a green sweater with a face she recognized - Steve Bradford was glaring daggers at his fellow ASL before turning to give Summer the same welcome.

"Bradford," she said simply. "Put the gun down."

"I'll do so gladly, once I blow this Infiltrator's head off his shoulders."

"Are you nuts?" Nils asked in protest, "I'm not the alien!"

"Then how do you explain _this?_" Bradford pulled down the neckline of his sweater to reveal a dime-sized bullet wound sealed up (poorly) by a medkit. "Recognize this? You should, cause you gave it to me."

"How the hell could I have shot you when I didn't even see you? I was with Summer and Liz all day!"

"I can confirm, he was," added Summer, hoping her testimony would de-escalate the situation. Judging by how the Commando narrowed his eyes, it seemed to have the opposite effect.

"I _know _what I saw!" Bradford snarled, finger hovering millimeters above the trigger. "You got the jump on me once, got me to let my guard down, and I'm not falling for it again! Now give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your brains out right now!"

_Click. _"I've got eight. Don't make me use them."

Summer sighed in relief at the sound of the familiar voice, her flashlight confirming the identity of the new arrival. "Carter…"

It was indeed Carter, bloodied and dirtier and with holes in his hat. He nodded at Summer, then glared at the man that _he_ was holding at gunpoint, even as his target kept his weapon trained on Nils.

"Drop the gun, Bradford," growled the gray-hatted agent, "or I'll drop you."

_FWOOM._ The lights in the hallway snapped back on in an instant, and after hours fumbling around in the dark, Summer was almost blinded by the sudden gift of illumination. After blinking furiously to clear the stars from her vision, she recognized their surroundings as an intersection of hallways, with four different pathways and four corners for possible ambushes. Her gratefulness for being able to see ended when she saw a dozen or so agents with M14s lined up like a firing squad, training the business ends of their weapons at Carter.

And at the head of the formation was…

"Oh what the hell Goldstein!" groaned Summer, "_Really?_"

"Yes really!" protested the paranoid Recon agent, sandwiched between the much-taller Mucallin brothers, "You've seen it, just like me! The weird powers, the charisma despite being as morally reprehensible as possible...he's been an alien this whole time!"

Carter, when faced with the possibility of his own Strike Team's Recon agent turning against him, seemed more annoyed than anything else. "How many cups of coffee have you had this morning, Goldstein?"

"Six and a half! But I don't see how that's relevant to -!"

"No, no, that's probably the most relevant fact here."

The Mucallin on Adam's left, who was only a few inches taller than the other redhead, pursed his lips into a frown. "While I don't' think that much coffee 's good fer anyone, I do gotta agree with the lad here. What you think, Jack?"

"Aye," said the other, in a raspier voice, "Alfred's right. It's mighty suspicious, it is. Sorry Carter, but right now yer the most suspect person here."

Bradford seemed annoyed, but for a different reason. "Can we all just stop pointing the guns at Carter and start pointing them at this alien bastard right here? I know it's him!"

"You don't know a goddamn thing, Bradford!" protested Nils.

"I know a bullet to the brain kills anything," growled Bradford, "and right now that's good enough for me."

"Last warning, Bradford," snarled Carter. "Stand! Down!"

Summer clutched her pistol tightly, unsure of where to aim it. The other agents raised their weapons as well. If something didn't happen soon, there'd be a massacre right in the middle of the base.

Salvation came in an unlikely form, as another voice echoed around the corner.

"Looks like the power's back on here, boys. Good work. Now let's go and check the other -"

Half of the dozen M14's pivoted on the spot and aimed at Doctor Alan Weir, who rounded the corner holding a clipboard in one hand and a thermos in the other. He was followed by Shen and a man named Vahlen, a Support Agent who Summer had seen helping out in comms sometimes. The good doctor's two escorts raised their own weapons in response to the threat, while the man himself seemed unphased at being another target at the center of the firing squad's attention.

Weir took a small sip from his thermos, and gave an attempt at a smile.

"Normally, I'd apologize for interrupting...but I think, this time, I'm glad I did. Now. May I ask what all this is about?"

"It's Carter!" cried Adam, "He's the Infiltrator! He's trying to control all of us and -"

"Bullshit! I've got the traitor right here! It's Nils!"

"For the last time, Bradford, _it's not me!_"

As the accusations and protests continued, Weir raised a single hand to silence everyone. Then he calmly turned to Carter, still wearing a smile.

"Mister Carter. If you recall, during my rescue, your healing powers were failing you when you needed them. I gave you something to restore your strength. What was it?"

Carter raised an eyebrow. "Is that really - "

"Humor me, William. Do you remember?"

Summer watched as Carter frowned, then sighed. "It...it was a military chocolate bar. Tropical, like you'd find in those old K Rations."

Weir nodded in approval, then looked out to the sea of nervous agents. "Very good. Now tell me - how could Mister Carter have known that if he wasn't there? If he truly was the Infiltrator, he would have simply tried to deflect the question, or attempt to come up with a lie to cover his tracks."

"He could have read it in the reports," countered another Agent.

"A small detail like that? I doubt it would be significant enough to be stored in XCOM's records. Now...a good number of people on this base are friends. There must be something you all know about each other to prove who you are. Test each other. Reveal that you know such knowledge. If the Infiltrator is here, and trying to separate us and turn us against one another with lies...then it only makes sense to weed it out with the truth, does it not?"

Nils seemed to pick up on what the good doctor meant, and glanced back at Bradford. "You've got a son, right Steve? You keep his picture in your office, in the same drawer as your emergency weapons locker. What's his name?"

Bradford seemed immediately remorseful and regretful, lowering his revolver in shame. "John…" he muttered quietly.

Seeing how Adam still didn't completely stand down, Summer levied her own question at Carter. "When we first met, and you did a weapons check on me, what did I say afterwards?"

Carter smirked, both at the answer and the fact that Summer had chosen _that _memory as her test. "I believe your exact words were 'I'm not hiding anything except a nice rack and a sweet ass.'"

A ripple of chuckles washed over the crowd. Some guffawed. Others blushed. One agent wolf-whistled. Then the dam of awkwardness broke, and the present agents began asking similar questions to each other. From where she was, most of the details got lost in a sea of words, but the way they reacted to the correct answers (including how tightly the Mucallins embraced) told Summer that the Infiltrator wasn't hiding among them.

The only one who wasn't included was Penny.

Summer opened her mouth to ask a question only Penny knew the answer to, but before she could say anything, she was interrupted by a very loud _CRACK_, followed by a cry of pain and the sound of a wet _thud._

"Carter!"

"Whiskey's been tagged!"

"Who the _fuck _fired that shot?"

"Wasn't me! I wouldn't - _oh shit!_"

The homeless huntress had to agree that "oh shit" was the only appropriate reaction to seeing the short brown hair of Weaver bounding around the corner, steely eyes locked on the fallen Carter like a lioness going in for the kill. The other Agents (the ones who hadn't pissed themselves in terror, at least) immediately moved to form a human wall with weapons raised. That ended up being a mistake, as Weaver unclasped a cylinder from her belt and flung it into the half-dozen operatives. Summer had the foresight to shield her eyes before the inevitable explosion. Most of the others did not.

"_Fuck!_ I'm blind!"

"Why are those bloody things so _loud?_"

"I like those flashbangs better when _I'm_ the one throwing them!"

Weaver wasted no time in taking advantage of the chaos. She slammed the length of her sniper rifle into the throat of a dazed agent, shoving them over with a bruised windpipe. Without breaking stride she drove her rifle's stock into Adam's jaw, knocking him to the ground with a few less teeth. The Mucallins swung at her next, but she easily wove between their clumsy swings and countered with a kick to the knee and a knife-hand to the side, casting them behind her as she lunged forward.

Summer planted herself firmly between Carter and Weaver, silver staring into steel blue. Weaver accepted the challenge and opened up with another shove with the sniper rifle, hoping to dispatch her obstacle quickly. But that was what Summer was counting on, grabbing the side of the gun and letting herself flow into the momentum, before reversing course and anchoring herself to the ground, pushing and pulling on the weapon as she felt Weaver do the same.

"Agent Rose," growled Weaver through grit teeth as she fought for control of the rifle, "_stand down._"

"_You_ stand down!" Summer spat back. "Carter's innocent! I confirmed it myself!"

The officer-rank agent scoffed. "Like I'd take _your _word for it."

There was something under there, bubbling beneath the surface, and Summer knew she would be kicking herself later for not resolving the issue there and then. But that would be a concern for future Summer. Present Summer had other worries at the moment, like trying to keep Weaver from perforating her first friend on Earth.

A faint glow cast its light over them, a telltale sign of Carter's miracle healing at work. That seemed to redouble Weaver's fervor, prompting her to drive her knee into Summer's flank. Her opponent knocked momentarily off-balance, the reprieve gave her the leverage she needed to rip the rifle out of Summer's grip, bringing it up to fire a snap shot at the downed Strike Leader. The homeless huntress quickly sprang back to her feet though, throwing her weight into a shoulder check that pushed the barrel off-course and sent its bullet harmlessly into the wall. Summer let the momentum of her shove carry her into a run that took her first to the wall and then along it, running up the side-mounted wooden grain to gain height before leaping off to deliver a flying kick. Her steel-toed boot connected solidly with Weaver's jaw, sending her sprawling across the floor as the rifle clattered out of her hands.

"Grab her! Summer's given us an opening, put her against the wall!"

The Mucallin brothers were quick to comply with Nils's order, each of them taking an arm and pinning Weaver against the wall. She resisted every step of the way, made them fight for every inch, but the will of the clansmen held stronger than she could manage.

Summer panted as she watched Weaver struggle under their grasp, Nils and Bradford pointing their weapons at her as a warning. She looked over at Carter to find Shen and Vahlen already helping him back to his feet, the wound inflicted already looking much better. She knew that while there were no real side effects when he used his healing powers on others, it usually took him a few minutes to shake off the shock of the wounds on his own body.

"Start talking, Weaver!" Nils demanded. "Why'd you attack Carter?"

"He attacked me first," spat Weaver, "Started shooting me on sight soon as I tried to signal him. Figured I'd return the favor."

"Then why aren't you hurt?"

"Because he _missed_, obviously. I was prepared. Besides, why am _I _the one being interrogated? Carter's such an obvious choice for the Infiltrator."

"See? I told you!"

"Not helping, Goldstein!"

"Could she be the Infiltrator? She might be lying…"

"She certainly didn't hesitate to plug Carter when she had the chance."

"On the other hand..._Weaver_."

"...oh yeah."

"There's an easy way to find out, remember? We just gotta ask her something only she'd know the answer to."

"Oh, that's work. 'Hey Weaver, how many dicks have you cut off?' 'Forty two, and when I get outta here it's gonna be forty-three.'"

Despite the circumstances, Summer couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the woman. She was...the antithesis to Summer, in a lot of ways. Self-centered. Self-serving. Driven by rage. Finding solace in isolation. Ruling and keeping others in check with fear. Everything Summer wasn't, and everything she swore up and down to never become since the moment she first locked eyes with Raven in the Emerald Forest.

She almost let out a sigh of relief when Bradford stepped forward, lowering his pistol to get closer to the still-struggling agent.

"Where was your first and only date with Officer Nico DaSilva?"

Weaver's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Oh fuck off, Bradford."

"Answer the question, Weaver, and we'll let you go. Where was -"

"FINE. It was in a dive bar in Reno during a sweep for Outsider activity. Are you happy now?"

"It's her," said Bradford, turning back to the Agents. Summer smiled, thankful that this world's raven at least had a crow of her own looking out for her.

With a nod from Bradford, the Mucallin brothers released Weaver, who started rubbing her sore arms. "Is there a reason you asked me that? Besides trying to undermine my reputation, of course."

"The only thing we were trying to undermine was the uncertainty of who the Infiltrator actually is," said Weir as he stepped into view. "Now then. Why don't we start by exchanging what we _do _know? Can you give us a sitrep of what's happened to you so far? That goes for everyone as well. If we share our stories, we may be able to find the weak points and investigate from there."

As the Agents swapped stories about the last few hours, Summer spared a glance over at Penny, expecting her to hide behind Shen, or Nils, or Carter, or anyone at the sight of Weaver.

Instead, she found her just standing there, staring at what was going on.

Summer's heart sank as she caught the briefest shadow of a smile on her face.

_Oh no._

She didn't want to believe it. She didn't even want to _consider _it. The thought of the Infiltrator taking on the appearance of her best friend on Earth...her stomach twisted itself into knots, her mind raced to find possible excuses or explanations.

But there was only one way to be sure.

She tapped Nils on the shoulder, making him turn around to face her. "Summer? What's wrong?"

She had to choose her words carefully. Had to say one thing and mean something else entirely. It shouldn't have been too hard - she'd been lying ever since she arrived at the Bureau, after all. But it wasn't just her safety she was trying to secure. Now it was everyone's.

Summer could feel Penny staring cold beams into her soul as she gulped.

"I think...I think Penny needs some time away from people. From others. She's getting a little...overstimulated. I'm going to go take her for a...walk."

Nils cast a glance at Penny, then looked back and nodded. "I see. Want me to come with?"

The man blinked twice as he spoke. Good. He understood what was really going on. "No. I think we'll be fine with just the two of us."

The Recon agent nodded. "Alright. Have fun you two."

Summer steeled her breath and put on a smile, walking over to Penny and mustering up the courage to take her friend by the hand once more. What should have been a comforting, heartwarming gesture suddenly felt a million times more terrifying.

"Come on Penny," she said as sweetly as she could, "let's take a walk."

Summer pulled Penny away without waiting for an answer, putting a fair distance between the two women and the group of other agents. The comms operator looked down at their joined hands, at the way Summer's fingertips curled protectively around hers. Her skin was so soft, so warm, so tender. So realistic. If it _was_ just a disguise, it was a very well-made one.

"I...the lights are back on," Penny protested after they had walked down the hallways for a moment. "We don't have to hold hands."

That set off a red flag. Summer knew that Penny _loved _physical contact, especially from her. Still, she just looked back and smiled sweetly. "Yeah. But I know how much you like to wander off. You're always going someplace we can't find you and making trouble. With an Infiltrator on the loose, I'm not taking any chances."

"Oh...right. Yeah, that makes sense," said Penny, somewhat disappointed.

Another red flag popped up alongside its brother. What Summer had said was complete bull, and the real Penny would have known it. Penelope Cohen was the exact opposite of someone who'd strike off the beaten path. In fact, she'd tread that path so many times it was even _more _beaten.

But maybe she was just trying to put on a brave face for Summer. Maybe she was trying to prove to herself that she could be strong. And maybe she was still in so much shock that she wasn't processing what Summer said correctly.

Unlikely, but a line could be formed from any two data points. She'd need a third one to prove that there's a pattern.

"By the way," she said innocuously, "I'm really grateful for you giving me that book on my first day here. It was very informative, and helped me out a lot with my amnesia."

Penny looked up at her with a smile. "Of course. Anything for a friend."

"I especially liked the _Global Almanac_, the first book you gave me. I know it's one of your favorites, so I really appreciate you letting me borrow it."

This was it. This was the easiest test she could come up with. If there was anything that the real Penny - _her _Penny - cared about, anything that could bring her mind out of its darkest corners, it was her beloved books. And anyone even remotely familiar with Earth literature would know that there was no such thing as "Global Almanac." Surely Penny would recognize that. Surely her Penny would point out her mistake.

"You're welcome. I'm glad you liked it."

Gods dammit.

Three strikes.

Just like that.

Just like in baseball, the Outsider was out.

Summer felt a cold chill wash over her as she let go of Penny's hand, stopping behind her and drawing her pistol. She had to fight back the tears that threatened to form, had to struggle against the lead that weighed down her shoulders, had to remind herself to keep breathing as she pointed the gun at the head of the monster that pretended to be her friend.

"Where is she? What have you done with her?"

The young woman stopped in her tracks, looking back at Summer tearfully and fearfully. "S-Summer? Wha…"

"Don't give me that," snapped Summer, "Don't you _dare _look at me like that." Gods, it was so hard to keep herself from crying as she spoke. "Penny would've corrected me on the spot when it came to book titles. _And_ she would've flinched and tried to shy away when Weaver showed up. You did neither of those things...so you obviously aren't her. Now I'm _not_ going to ask nicely again. _Where. Is. My friend?"_

The sadistic grin on the stolen face was almost a relief. "...I was wondering how long it would take you to notice."

_BLAM._

The bullet bounced harmlessly off a kinetic barrier, and the Infiltrator retaliated by swinging its fist towards Summer's head. The silver-eyed woman blocked the sudden punch with her forearm and countered with an attempted pistol-whip, which the alien infiltrator stopped by grabbing the barrel. The two of them grappled for control of the gun, with Summer struggling to bring the business end to its chest while her opponent attempted to pull it out of her grasp. When it became clear that this was a contest of strength she wouldn't win, she changed tactics, slamming her forehead into "Penny's" skull, knocking the infiltrator off balance just long enough for Summer to grab the alien's arm and lock it behind the back, slamming her weight against the alien and shoving it against the wall.

"Hmm…" purred Penny's doppelganger, "An impressive display. Most impressive indeed. Not only sharp-minded, but also well-versed in hand-to-hand." The voice sounded similar to Penny's, but the inflection was...wrong.

"If you think flattery will stop me from putting a bullet in your brain, you're wrong," growled Summer, shoving the business end of her pistol against its head and well inside the shield it wore. "Now start talking. What did you do to her?!"

"Oh, relax already," croned the infiltrator, rolling Penny's eyes. "Your friend is _fine. _She's just taking a short nap right on the floor - exactly where you left her."

"If you did anything to hurt her…"

"I didn't even lay a hand on her. She passed out as soon as she saw my true form. Once you had turned your back, it was a simple matter of pulling her out of sight and changing my cloak to take on her appearance."

"I turned my back for a _minute_," said Summer in disbelief.

The Infiltrator grinned darkly. "That was all the time I needed."

"So you were with us ever since we left the Armory," said Summer as the pieces fell into place. "You could have easily attacked us at any point. Hell, you were holding my hand the whole time. Why not take advantage of that?"

Penny's double pursed her lips. "I admit...my mission took a backseat to my curiosity. You intrigued me, Summer Rose. The way you seemed so sure of your moral convictions, how you threatened anyone who would harm your 'friends'... and to say nothing of your combat prowess...it was fascinating, especially given how selfish and simple-minded these other 'humans' are. I had to know who you are...and I believe I might have an idea.

Summer scowled. It was so tempting to just pull the trigger and be done with it. But that would be too easy. Too merciful. Too painless.

"You don't know a damn thing about me," she growled, "and you know even _less_ about humanity."

The alien cackled in Penny's voice. "I know enough. I know that they enjoy conflict, thrive and profit off of warfare and bloodshed. Oh sure, they pretend to be civil, but they're no better than Mutons in their need for chaos and destruction. Do you know how many people I've personally killed today?"

"Too many."

"Now _you're _flattering me. I only killed six. The rest? _They _did that to themselves."

Summer's grip tightened on the pistol as the Outsider continued to speak.

"It was a brilliant plan, really. All I had to do was knock out the power, cycle my cloak through the appearance of a handful of prominent agents, then begin attacking others under disguise. Those that died would no longer get in my way. Those that lived would be suspicious of anyone and everyone, even turning against a friend if it meant their survival. Paranoia and suspicion would have taken care of the wandering Agents, leaving me free to execute my real mission."

Penny's double snarled. "Except just when things were getting good, you all decided you actually _trusted _one another."

"Told you that you didn't know anything about humanity," said Summer with a smirk. "So how about we circle back a bit and talk about this mission of yours. What were you hoping to accomplish with coming here?"

The laugh that came from the alien spy sounded like Penny's, but instead of reminding Summer of church bells, it sounded more like death kneels. "Mosaic would flash-fry my brains if I even _considered _answering truthfully," drawled the infiltrator.

Her smirk faded, replaced by a raised eyebrow. "Mosaic? What the hell's Mosaic?"

"Mosaic is the truth that humanity shall come to know," answered Penny's doppelganger. "Most will not live to witness it...but those that do will realize that this world is no longer theirs."

While Summer struggled to parse the meaning of the Infiltrator's words, it chuckled darkly. "You know...it's funny. The mere sight of me, an alien, was enough to make your precious 'Penny' faint on the spot."

It looked back at Summer with a dangerous grin. "I wonder how she'd react to finding out her best friend is _also_ an alien?"

What the fuck?

Before Summer could even start to ask how it knew, the lights popped out again and plunged the world into darkness once more. The Infiltrator, who no doubt had a hand in both the blackouts, squirmed out of her grasp, jerking its head back and crushing Summer's nose with the back of its skull. She stumbled back and lost her grip on the pistol just long enough for Penny's doppleganger to swipe it from her hands, aim it at the staggered Huntress, and fire.

_BLAM. BLAM. BLAM._

Silver eyes went wide in response to the fire racing across her skin, as one, two, three bullets punched through her skin and muscles and buried themselves into her ribs. The shock of hitting the ground was nothing compared to the searing pain that got worse every time she tried to breathe, and though she knew she had to move her hand to stem the bleeding, her body seemed unwilling to do so. But what hurt worse than the pain was the sight she saw when her Venn Brace automatically turned on its flashlight function - just in time to reveal a monster wearing the face of her best friend callously step over her and aim the pistol at her head.

Summer braced herself for the bullet that would end her life a second time.

It never came.

What did come, however, was the sound of a powerful laser burning through the air, briefly illuminating the hallway in a deep red glow. The blast struck Penny's double square in the arm, shattering its shield and scorching its shoulder. The sound of Penny's voice screaming in agony soon followed after a moment of shock, but it faded and morphed into a modulated voice, one identical in tone and inflection to the voices Summer had heard a dozen times in the field.

The Infiltrator's disguise disintegrated in a swirl of holographic cubes, revealing the familiar face of an Outsider. The glowing red eyes, the leathery wrinkled forehead and skin, the vertical mouth slit that stretched from its chin to its crown, revealing a jawful of silver teeth...Summer didn't need perfect lighting to see just how _alien _and otherworldly it was.

"_Got you now, asshole!_"

The voice of Nils preceded another blast from the recovered laser sniper rifle, this one lancing its side. The Infiltrator snarled and spun to face its new opponent, firing Summer's pistol at the Recon agent. Nils cast aside the now-spent laser weapon and drew his own M14 instead, firing a short burst that hit the Outsider's leg, causing blue blood to splatter out of its wound. Rather than retaliate, the Infiltrator chose to retreat, hobbling away and ducking under Nils's follow up bursts.

Summer turned limply towards the sound of the voice. "Nils…" she croaked.

"Hang in there, Summer," said the Recon agent as he snapped a fresh magazine into his rifle. "Carter's on his way with healing. I'll keep pursuit of this bastard, try to keep the pressure on him and direct him to the Morgue. You and the rest of Strike Three meet up with me soon as you can, and then we'll finish him off for good."

No.

No.

No no no no no no no.

If Summer was barely able to hold her own against the Infiltrator, then there was no way in hell that Nils stood a chance. He may have gotten a surprise attack or two in, but he couldn't possibly stay that lucky for the whole fight. If he went after the Infiltrator by himself, then he'd end up staying in the Morgue instead of medical.

And no one would be waiting for him in the Morgue.

"Nils…" she barely managed to choke out, "...it's...suicide…"

"I know," he admitted as he slid back the charging handle, "but if we don't follow him now he'll just slip away again. We can't let that happen. _I _can't let that happen."

And with that, the Recon agent ran off before Summer could even remind him of his promise to Liz.

She rolled over, trying to pull herself up but to no avail. She had to get up. Had to follow him. Had to follow the trail of blue alien blood on the floor, even if she had to crawl to do so. But the pain was so bad. It hurt so much. So much that after screaming at her own failure, she pulled out her Muton blade, heating it up and casting her surroundings in blood-red light as she prepared to bring the hot edge to her wounds…

"Whoa whoa whoa! Summer no! Don't do that!"

A hand clamped tightly onto her shoulder, and pale blue light overtook her. Summer sighed in relief as Carter's power surged through her, soothing the pain and closing up the entry holes that kept belching fire and fatigue. And yet...it wasn't completely gone. There was still an echo of pain that lingered, a remnant that stuck fast in her chest like a bad case of heartburn. She looked back at her squad leader, perplexed.

"Sorry," he said with a shake of his head. "I was already running on half-empty before we found each other. Then Weaver shot me with a damn sniper round, and...well, that takes more to repair than a dinky little pistol shot. So that's about all the healing I got left right now. Hope it's enough."

"Maybe we should go back and get one of those chocolate bars from the Doctor again," said Adam.

"There's no time for that!" Summer's eyes widened in urgency. "Nils took off after the Infiltrator without backup!"

Carter swore. "When I told him to go on ahead, that didn't mean he was supposed to follow it! What does that damn fool think he's doing?"

"I don't know," said Summer, already pulling herself to her feet. "But he left us a trail to follow. We have to move, now!"

And with that, she took off running, following the drops and splatters of blue alien blood as it led her down hallways and around corners. She could hear the pounding footsteps of her squadmates behind her - Carter, Adam, Shen, and even the Mucallin brothers. She didn't bother slowing down so they could keep up, even though she knew she should have. But she was faster than them, and she _needed_ to move fast to save Nils. If the others couldn't keep up, that was their own damn fault.

"_All agents,_" said a voice that crackled from her jacket-mounted radio, "_Infiltrator has been spotted and is being pursued by Tango-Two. Change your radio frequencies to 93.7 for base-wide reporting and updates._"

Despite the urgency, Summer fiddled with the dials on her mike, switching the settings to the channel that Chulski had specified. A flood of reports came crackling through the speaker.

"_Hotel-Four here," _came Vahlen's voice, "_reporting from Sub-level Four. Working with Alpha-Whiskey and Hotel-Delta to get basewide power back on. Seems like there's some kind of EMP charge that the Infiltrator's planted and detonated remotely. We're working on how to remove it without damaging the main power lines."_

That would explain why the lights went out a second time. The Infiltrator must have sabotaged the main power when it first came in, then set a charge that it could detonate if the engineers got it working again. Well, no matter. If anyone could figure out how to restore power again, it'd be Weir and Dresner. Besides, her Venn Brace had enough light to let her see the alien blood trail, and that was enough for her.

"_Sierra-One reporting from Sub-Level One,_" called Bradford, "_got the Hangar locked down with most of the rest of Strike One. If that Infiltrator tries to use the Skyrangers to escape, he's gonna get a face full of lead for the trouble."_

Summer frowned as she noticed another blood trail running concurrent with the one she was following. It was dark, and sticky, and had the same consistency as the first trail.

Except this one was _red._

The Infiltrator had scored a hit on Nils, and now there were two trails to follow, both leading to the same place.

At least, she hoped they would.

_"Whiskey Three checking in from Sub-Level Two," _growled Carter. _"I'm in pursuit of the Infiltrator with Romeo-Two, Alpha-Two, and Alpha-Five and Juliett-Five. Sierra-Three's in pursuit as well, but she's outpacing the rest of us, as usual."_

Now more than ever, Summer wished for her Aura. Not for protection, or even to remind her of home, but for her Semblance. Her Scatter ability allowed her to dissolve into a burst of rose petals and reform anywhere she liked. What she wouldn't give to have that power right now, when she _needed _to be somewhere else.

_"Echo-Five speaking," _grumbled Briggs in a British accent, _"Lima-Five and I have got the APCs fired up and are forming a blockade."_

Her thoughts as she ran returned to her Aura, and theories she had on why it wasn't working. Maybe she'd lost it when she died on Remnant? Maybe she'd been transported into a body where such a force simply didn't exist? She knew that the human race on Earth had never developed the ability to use Aura, but the Outsiders seemed able to use their powers just fine. Shouldn't she, another alien, also be able to use hers?

Maybe she could ask the Infiltrator about her Aura problems.

Assuming she could remember to do so before disemboweling it.

"_Alpha-One here. Tango-Two and bogey have been spotted leaving the Sub-Level One stairwell. Got a clear killshot on the Infiltrator, sir. Waiting on approval."_

Good. Much as Summer didn't like Weaver, she wasn't about to let personal pride get in the way of the right thing. If she could take out the Infiltrator with one clean headshot, then maybe Nils would be safe, and this whole nightmare would be over.

_"Negative, Alpha-One. Disabling shots only. Capture protocol is in effect."_

...what?

_"...understood. Target has been tagged. Standing by for additional orders."_

Summer couldn't believe what she was hearing. Why did Faulke want the Infiltrator alive? Why did Weaver just go for a wounding shot when she had a perfect kill in her lap?

_Why wasn't anyone telling Nils to stand down?!_

_"Thanks, Alpha-One!" _Nils gasped, _"Think that just pissed him off, though!"_

He sounded tired, but alive. That was all the proof that Summer needed to keep running, to sprint up the approaching stairs five steps at a time. It didn't escape her notice that the farther she got, the more red blood she saw instead of blue.

_"Kilo-Three, reporting from Armory," _said Knox somberly. "_Got the corpse of an agent here, looks like it's Papa-Four. There's a comms operator here too, in shock but alive. Won't stop crying though. Keeps asking for Sierra-Three."_

Penny...the poor dear. Summer wanted nothing more than to go to her, to hold and comfort her, to help her through the nightmare.

But right now Nils needed her more.

She made one final sprint to the top of the stairwell, shoulder checking the door and nearly taking it off its hinges. Her arm screamed in pain, and she could already feel a bruise forming across her muscled skin, but she didn't care. She kept running.

"_Alpha-One with another update. Just saw Sierra-Three charge out the same stairwell Tango-Two took. She's got murder written all over her face."_

_"Go get 'em, Sierra!"_ called out Briggs, _"Get in there and kick some arse!"_

_"Keep him busy Sierra!" _added Carter. "_Strike Three'll be there as soon as we can."_

A flood of encouraging comments followed suit, and it was almost enough to make her smile.

Almost.

Muttering a quick "thank you" to everyone on the receiving end, Summer bounded down the last leg of the blood trail and towards the sound of gunfire and yelling. The sounds came from the hallway she and Nils had passed earlier, to the right of Medical. Nils must have been at least somewhat successful in routing the Infiltrator towards the Morgue, though the amount of blood in the trail she followed told her that he'd likely paid a heavy price.

That suspicion was confirmed when she rounded the corner just in time to see the Infiltrator pull the M14 from Nils's bloodied hands, knocking him to the floor before dumping the rest of the magazine into him.

The world froze. The radio lit up with chatter.

"_Tango-Two's down! Repeat, Tango-Two's critical!"_

_"Get medical personnel to the Morgue ASAP! We gotta get him stabilized!"_

_"Someone get a damn medkit!"_

Summer's grip on the mike was strong enough to shatter the casing, and before she knew it, she was charging at the alien monster responsible. It brought up the rifle to return fire, only to hear the click of an empty magazine. She took advantage of the mistake by throwing the comms device like a softball, striking the Infiltrator in the face and, while it wasn't as effective as a grenade, the weight and impact of the shattering plastic and circuitry certainly caused a great deal of pain as it cut across its face. The huntress closed the distance and throttled the Outsider with both hands, wrapping her fingers around its throat and shaking it violently while ducking and avoiding its wild flails. When the Infiltrator tried to do the same to her, she denied it the pleasure by kicking it square in the chest, knocking it into the doors to the Morgue before sending it crashing through the glass barrier with another solid kick.

She leapt in through the broken glass, staring down the Outsider as it slowly rose back to its feet. The smell of rotting corpses and the countless body bags illuminated by her Venn Brace would have normally overwhelmed her and filled her with revulsion. Now, however, they were barely a blip on her radar - her focus was entirely on the Infiltrator standing across from her, barely a shadow in the darkness.

"Nowhere left to run or hide," growled Summer dangerously as she drew her blade, its laser-heated elements casting the room in a blood-red light as it extended to its full length.

The Infiltrator hummed thoughtfully at the sight of the weapon. "Curious...a Muton dueling blade. You'll never find a Muton who would willingly part with their blade, no matter how much material wealth you offer them. The only way to get one is to kill its owner."

Then, to her surprise, the Infiltrator pulled out an identical-looking blade, except this one glowed with emerald light.

"Unfortunately for you, I happen to be an _expert _duelist."

"We'll see about that," snarled Summer, bringing her blade into a ready position. Across from her, the Infiltrator did the same.

The two duelists circled and stepped around each other, as if they were waiting for their opponent to make the first move. Summer took advantage of the pale green light the Infiltrator's weapon cast on himself to study her foe, to notice all the nicks and burns and bleeding wounds that nevertheless didn't seem to impede its movement. Either this particular Outsider didn't feel pain, or it had a will equal to Summer's and was simply blocking it out of its mind.

Illuminated in a shade of red that matched her rage, Summer eventually got tired of waiting and made the first strike.

She dashed forward and lashed out multiple times with her blade, leaving arcing red flashes with every swing. The Infiltrator brought up its own sword to block each blow, creating a shower of sparks when the two heated blades met. After blocking several of Summer's attacks, it followed up with a strike of its own that left a green trail as it swung, which she narrowly managed to lean to avoid before blocking another incoming slash. The two of them fell into a comfortable rhythm of strikes and blocks, deflections and parries, moves and countermoves. A deadly dance of crimson and emerald that would not cease until blood was drawn.

The Outsider, much to Summer's chagrin, wasn't bluffing when it said it was an expert duelist. She could see it in the movements, the stance, the foot placement. It had finesse, precision, speed, control, and yet it was still strong enough to keep hold of its guard to withstand the full brunt of her strikes, as well as retaliate with enough force to make the bones in her arms shake each time she blocked. It was clear from the body language on display and the almost bored expression on its face that it wasn't taking this seriously - to the Infiltrator, this entire experience was little more than a game, one that Summer was struggling just to keep up with.

But she had no intention of losing anyways.

The air in the room grew warmer and warmer as the two heated blades collided against each other again and again, the golden flashes that erupted from each point of contact lighting up the Morgue just as much as the blades themselves. Summer's swings were wild, powerful, and sweeping; as the Infiltrator studied her style, its swings too became more confident and less apprehensive. The two fighters became little more than whirling blades of red and green as they slashed and clashed, flowing into more complex feints and more elaborate, faster series of strikes that demanded more from the defender and even more from the attacker.

Summer used the environment to her advantage as much as she could during the deadly duel. Anytime she could let a desiccated corpse in a body bag take a thrust that was meant for her head, she did so. Whenever she saw a chance to knock the Infiltrator into a stack of crates with a punch, she took it. Sometimes she'd kick a wheeled table into her opponent to throw off the rhythm; sometimes she'd use the same table as a springboard to unleash an overhead swing. The Outsider quickly wisened up to her attacks of opportunity, and quickly developed counters. Such as flinging the corpse off its blade and at her feet to trip her up, or slashing the table into steaming halves before she got a chance to use it.

The dance of glowing sabers in the dark was as beautiful as it was dangerous, art and science and warfare all at once. For the first time since coming to Earth, Summer felt like a Huntress again.

But it could not last forever.

She could feel her adrenaline fading as the fight progressed, her stamina flagging as fatigue rose within her arms and legs. This sluggishness and exhaustion was the only explanation she could muster for why the Infiltrator drew first blood, its blade skirting lightly across her upper back. The sheer heat coming from the steaming wound was excruciating - it felt a million times hotter than her sword could ever be, and it seemed to further sap her strength and dull her senses until it felt like she was swimming in her own melted flesh.

The fight ended soon after that first strike. Summer tried to focus on blocking and countering, but the agony of that damn searing cut on her back drained her and slowed her down too much. She was unable to stop the Outsider's sword from making a similarly painful cut on her upper arm, then on her flank, then her thighs. The last strike that bit into the side of her leg finally broke her, falling to her knees as her prized sword clattered out of her hand.

Hot blood flowed out of hotter wounds, and took her strength with it.

"As I suspected," said the Infiltrator, smugness seeping into its layered voice. "An admirable effort...but a futile one. Countless species have fallen before the Zudjari. Yours will be another handful of dust cast into an infinite nebula."

Summer wanted to rise, wanted to get up, wanted to do _anything _besides kneel before the Infiltrator and whine pitifully, but that's all her body seemed capable of doing at the moment. The Outsider spy stepped forward, clawed fingertips reaching under her chin and tilting her face up to meet its own as it powered up its blade one final time.

"To think...a world as primitive as this one would have a soul like yours inhabiting it. Skill with the blade, the rage of a warrior, and the cunning of a thief, all concealed within eyes of silver...you are full of surprises, Summer Rose."

"She's not the only one."

The lights flipped back on one final time to reveal Carter standing in the doorway to the Morgue, hands glowing with blue ephemeral light that made the Infiltrator's eyes widen in shock. Before it could lunge or do anything, Carter made an upwards fist motion, yanking the Outsider off the ground as if hoisted into the air by invisible hands. With a growl and a jerk of his hand to the left, the Infiltrator slammed into a stack of cremation ovens like a ragdoll; with a flick of his wrist to the right, it crashed through a shelf of body bags. Finally, Carter levitated the helpless Infiltrator one more time, glaring at it menacingly before he pulled it towards him and drove his fist into its chest as it flew past, the Venn Brace strengthening and electrifying his punch. The Zudjari flopped and bounced across the ground before skidding to a halt, landing in a fit of shudders and convulsions before it finally went still.

"Whiskey Three here," said Carter into his radio as the light faded, "Infiltrator's out cold and ready for capture. Strike Three will tie him up and throw him down to the labs. I'll bet that the Kraut's foaming at the mouth for a chance to talk to this guy."

"_Acknowledged, Whiskey-Three,_" crackled Myron Faulke through the radio, "_Good work."_

"Wasn't just me, sir. Sierra did most of the hard work, as usual."

There was a brief pause, before the Director chuckled. "_Then Sierra-Three has my thanks as well. This may very well change the way the war is fought. Excellent work, everyone. Vigilo Confido."_

As Adam, Shen, and other agents moved to secure the unconscious body of the Infiltrator, Summer's mind worked to process what had just happened. She knew that Carter had been practicing with the telekinetic powers the artifact gifted him, but she had no idea that he'd managed to get so fine a grip on them so quickly. The astonished Huntress looked back at Carter, staring in amazement at the man in the gray hat who, for once, looked quite pleased with himself.

"Hey, it might not be throwing cars around…" he said with a small smirk, "but I'd say it's still a neat trick."

Summer managed to force out a chuckle. "And you couldn't have done that five minutes earlier because…?"

"Because I wasn't sure if I'd end up picking you up too. It's...still not the most precise thing in the world."

"Mm." Summer's head suddenly felt significantly lighter. It was probably because of the blood loss.

As her vision blurred and the room around her started to tilt to the left, she concluded that it was _definitely_ because of the blood loss.

"Probably for the best. I'd...rather a man take me out for dinner first before...flinging me...around…"

She was barely aware of Carter calling out her name several times, each shout more alarmed than the last, before the world around her went dark one more time.

* * *

A/N: Whew! That was a thing! 10k words in a little less than a month...I think I'm starting to get the hang of this whole "writing" thing!

Now, about what I said about this chapter being the thesis statement for the story…(don't read if you aren't super interested in the gory details of storycrafting in video games)

As I've said before, the Bureau: XCOM Declassified is an interesting game concept with cool ideas that, barring some excellent exceptions, get undermined by having to be tied down to a mediocre third-person cover-based shooter. The Infiltrator sequence is one of those ideas. It actually happens much earlier in the game than it does in Summer Declassified, sandwiched right in between your first arrival at the Bureau and the mission to Rosemont to rescue Doctor Weir. During that sequence, there's no exploration, no sense of tension, not even really any creepiness factor. Just a series of objective markers that lead you to an awkward cutscene where Carter and the Infiltrator stand around and banter like dumbasses until the rest of your squad shows up in the background just in time for another dull firefight.

Oh, and we're supposed to be mad at the Infiltrator because he killed Nils, an NPC from the first mission whose only real character trait is that he's voiced by Yuri Lowenthal. So that's a thing that happens. How much it affects you mostly boils down to how much you like Yuri Lowenthal. (It certainly affected me, I'll tell you what.)

It's such a waste of an idea and such a _failure _of storytelling that it manages to stand out in a game that's absolutely full of similarly-botched concepts. It stuck with me so much that when I started planning Summer Declassified, I _knew_ I wanted to ramp up the paranoia and mistrust and the danger involved in having to hunt down the imposter. Moving the sequence to later in the story and populating the base with characters instead of just names and faces was certainly part of that, to try to further that sort of dread not just for the characters, but for the reader as well. Can you imagine how tense and fun it would have been if you had to do something similar like this entirely through game play? It certainly would have been more memorable than yet another shooting gallery in a room full of chest high walls, but maybe that's just me.

In any case, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and keep being awesome!


	12. Shadows On The Sun

A/N: Welcome, one and all, to the very first (and hopefully not last) Summer Declassified **DOUBLE FEATURE! **Yes, that's right - not only are you getting another chapter a single month after the last upload, you're getting _two _chapters at the same time! The main reason is because I ended up accidentally writing most of the next chapter before I finished writing this one...but hey, I'm still really proud of how they both turned out, so I figured I'd give you both of them!

For this chapter, we get to see how various characters are reacting to the Infiltrator incident that happened last time, as well as tie up a few loose ends from that chapter. (By the way, thanks to everyone who left a review last time! I'm really glad you guys enjoyed it so much, and here's hoping I'll be able to top myself!)

For now, enjoy!

* * *

Summer rarely had dreams anymore. She wasn't sure why. Maybe the stress of learning and fighting in an unknown world occupied her subconscious. Maybe she lost the ability to dream when she died. Or maybe it had to do with her missing Aura. Whatever the reason, her mind was blank and dark as she slept, a void of nothingness in the center of her sleeping mind.

Except this time.

This time, she saw a young girl in a darkened forest, pulling a vibrant red wagon behind her as she explored off the beaten path. In the wagon there was a toddler with red-and-black hair, sleeping peacefully. The girl leading the journey wasn't much older, long golden hair lighting a path through the darkness.

"Come on, Ruby," said the older girl, "You gotta stay awake. We gotta find mommy."

Ruby? Mommy?

Through the dreamlike haze, Summer recognized her daughters in a moment of clarity.

"Yang," she pleaded, "Yang please. Go back home. It's not safe."

The blonde girl ignored the cries of the desperate Summer, who was reaching out to them but kept at bay by some kind of invisible force. Instead, she pulled an old photograph from her pocket, unrolling it to reveal that it was stained with blood and tears.

"Can't be much further…" she muttered in a very tired sounding voice, "...gotta be close…"

"Yang, please…you don't know what you're looking for...you don't want to find it. You don't want _her _to find you."

Again, her pleas went unheard, her presence went unnoticed, her advice went unheeded. The little girl in the wagon stirred, then looked up...at her.

Silver eyes stared into each other, and Summer dropped to her knees and wept.

The next time she opened her eyes, the forest and the girls were gone.

In their place, she found herself on a bed, in a room painted with white walls and decorated sparsely. Tubes connected to her arms and legs, a soft blanket covered most of her bare body, and her head was propped up against a pillow. Machines chirped and beeped in the background, melding with the idle chatter of other people too far away for Summer to understand.

"You're finally awake."

Dull silver eyes struggled to track the source of the voice, eventually settling on a green-eyed blonde smiling sweetly. She reached over and flicked a switch, raising the back of Summer's bed enough to put her into an upright (but still reclined) position.

"...wha…wha…"

It was only when Summer tried to speak did she realize that her lips were cracked and bloodied, her throat dry and swollen. Elizabeth Walters chuckled, reaching for a nearby glass of water and brought it to the huntress's lips, slowly tilting back as her patient took long, loud, greedy gulps.

"Easy. Not so fast."

The water felt cool and refreshing, and Summer instantly wanted more of it as soon as the glass was taken away. Elizabeth set it down on the table, then snapped the ends of her stethoscope into her ears as she placed the frigid metal circle against her chest.

"You've been unconscious for five days," explained the nurse as she performed the physical checkup. "The medics were able to seal up most of the cuts you took during the fight with the Infiltrator, but...you lost a _lot _of blood. You were practically swimming in the stuff by the time Carter found you. Took two transfusions just to get you looking a little better. We're just lucky the Infiltrator didn't slice any major arteries."

Summer didn't feel very lucky. Still, she tried to put on a grateful smile, before her eyes looked to the left to inspect the splashes of color. As she stared, she realized she was looking at flowers in a glass vase. Lots and lots and _lots _of flowers. Roses, specifically, in every shade imaginable. She almost laughed at the irony.

Elizabeth seemed to notice, and laughed quietly. "Yeah...you've had a _lot _of visitors. Felt like everyone and their dad was bringing flowers and 'get well soon' cards. Carter came by at least once a day to check on you. Penny visited twice a day, and stayed with you for _hours_ at a time. And they're not the only friends of yours who've stopped by. Shen, Adam, Dawson, Knox, Barnes, Doctor Weir...even Director Faulke came down to see you once."

The thought of the director of the Bureau taking the time to check on her was amusing, and heartwarming at the same time. She looked back at Elizabeth with silver eyes, her throat preparing to speak a name she expected to hear in that list, but didn't.

"...Nils…?"

The nurse's smile vanished, and she looked over to Summer's right. The huntress tracked her eyes...to see a sight that made her wish she hadn't.

There, behind the privacy curtain, was the shadow of a man in every sense of the word. His arms and legs hung from wires, wrapped in casts that were elevated off the surface of the bed. A rather large uncomfortable looking brace extended from the base of the spine to the back of his neck. And though the machinery beeped in a steady rhythm to indicate life, the sheer number of tubes and pipes that flowed into him suggested that perhaps death may be a preferable alternative.

"He'll live," said Elizabeth shakily, warmth and confidence vanishing from her voice. "That much is certain. What's less certain is what happens next. His injuries from when the Command Ship in Rosemont blasted the Skyranger still hadn't completely healed, and when the Outsider turned his own gun against him, the bullets grazed his spine. It was all we could do to use a medkit to stop the bleeding, but...by the time Carter refreshed his healing powers, there was nothing he could do. The damage had already set in. And we can't operate on the spine to remove the bullets...it's just too risky, even with the most advanced medicine we have. So it's more than likely that he…"

Elizabeth forced back a choked sob.

"...he might never walk again."

Summer's heart sank. Her hands balled up into fists. Disbelief coursed through her body like a poison, consuming her thoughts. Nils, the man who had been there during her first few hours on Earth. Nils, the man who made sure to give her a smile and a proper greeting everytime he passed her. Nils, the man who watched trash TV with her and Elizabeth just before the Infiltrator came in. Nils, the man who volunteered to walk in the darkness alongside her when the power went out. Nils, the man who saved her when the Outsider spy had her dead to rights. Nils, the man who chased the bastard through the base all the way to the Morgue, despite bleeding heavily and taking serious hits.

Nils, the man she had _failed._

The disbelief turned to anger, hands shaking violently as they clutched the sheets until her knuckles went white. She could have prevented this. Could have saved him. Could have stopped all this pain. If only she had been smarter. If only she had been faster. If only she had put a bullet through that alien asshole's brain when she had the -

"Hey. Summer, look at me."

A pair of hands grasped her trembling fist, rubbing softly and gently until Summer's grip on the sheet relented. The hands were soft, and smooth, and slightly cold to the touch - it was enough to snap her out of her inner spiral and look at the nurse with tears streaming from silver eyes.

"It's not your fault," said Elizabeth, her own voice shaking, "You did..._everything _you could to protect him. He's always been...reckless, quick to act and slow to think things through. Maybe this will teach him to...slow down, to take his time. Or, knowing him...he'll try to get back on his feet as soon as possible. Or find another way to help. Either way...I can't thank you enough. The Infiltrator did this to him...but it might have done worse if you hadn't shown up."

One of the hands running up and down Summer's forearm departed for a moment, long enough for the huntress to wonder what it was doing before a small pinprick of pain left a mark. She gasped sharply as fatigue flooded outward from the point of contact, and despite her attempts to keep them open, Summer's eyes drooped closed.

"For now, rest," whispered Elizabeth, stroking the back of Summer's hand. "You've more than earned it. And you're going to need it…"

The silver-eyed huntress could only settle back into the bed as it sank back down, returning to that land of dreamless sleep.

Much to her dismay and relief, the forest did not return.

* * *

In contrast to the well-lit offices that made up most of Sub-Level Two, there was one area that was kept dark and quiet on purpose. A single agent in a brown suit and thick-rimmed glasses entered silently and without much joy, nodding wordlessly at other agents already seated at rows of desks illuminated by desk lamps. They spared him a moment's glance before they went back to their delicate tasks, the only ambient noise coming from the clicking of film reels and the squeaking of permanent markers.

This was the Editing Room. Where the truth came to die.

The Bureau might have been aware of the Outsiders and their threat, but the country at large and the rest of the world was not, and Faulke intended to keep it that way. Life continued on while XCOM and the Aliens engaged in their little shadow war, and that meant documentation for the purposes of bookkeeping, daily reports for hypothetical higher-ups, and newspapers delivering the latest current events to the unaware American's doorstep. It would look highly suspicious if future historians were to look back and notice that months - even years, perhaps - worth of legal records simply didn't exist, so it was up to those working in the Editing Room to create a highly-monitored, extremely classified version of their own history. To falsify the facts and maintain the masquerade.

Here, agents went over documents and newspaper drafts with a fine-toothed comb and a roll of black masking tape, covering up sensitive info about aliens and their victims with perfectly-cut black little boxes before either filing them away or sending photocopies back to the publishers. Photographs taken of UFOs, Outsiders, or the Bureau were confiscated and manually edited, with the offending material cut out like a cyst with the precision of a surgeon wielding a scalpel. And reels of film captured by either local investigators or aspiring filmmakers were reviewed frame-by-frame, any footage of the hidden battle snipped out and tossed into an incinerator.

Someday, maybe, the world would know about XCOM and their enemy unknown.

But that day would not come for a very, _very _long time.

Back in the present, Dennis Cole had to admit as he made his way to the back room that the setup was as ingenious as it was insidious. Faulke had people working around the clock here to conceal what was really happening, to bury the battle for survival taking place right under America's nose. The work here took its toll on people in every sense - mentally, physically, and emotionally. So agents were typically swapped out every two weeks, given a two-week break, and then slotted right back into editing duties.

Dennis hadn't had such a break in three months.

Not that he minded too much. He had ways to cope with the stress. And as he sat down at a typewriter already loaded with a fresh sheet of government-issued paper, he reached under the desk for one of those "coping mechanisms" instinctively.

The bottle of whiskey made a quiet _thunk_ as he set it on the desk, and the noise was soon joined by the clicking and clacking of hands moving across the typewriter keys.

_Bureau Operations Report, 18th of November, 1962_

The first line flowed out of Dennis's fingers like muscle memory. How many of these damn things had he written? Even he was starting to lose count. He'd really prefer if, just once, he could do something else. Something that wasn't just another daily report. But he was good at writing them, so Faulke kept making him write.

It was bad enough that this one was already a week late. No sense delaying the inevitable.

The start of the report was simple enough. Operation code names and their outcomes, dispatch mission results, what was "borrowed" on supply runs, ammo spent, weapons in need of replacing or maintenance, all very standard stuff. That wasn't hard to write. But the hardest part came when Dennis got to the end, taking a swig of whiskey to give him the courage to write out the last three lines.

_Number of Agents KIA: 17  
Number of Agents Wounded: 9_

_See attached document for casualty list_

Dennis clutched his forehead, shaking his head slowly and pinching the bridge of his nose. His drink was strong, but not nearly strong enough for what this required. That damn Infiltrator had made a real mess of things - seventeen agents dead, most of them from friendly fire due to the rampant suspicion the alien among them had sown.

Not that he could pin all the blame on the Outsider. After all, he'd personally been responsible for two of those deaths himself. One was in self-defense, the other was...less justifiable.

Another mouthful of whiskey. Damn, was he really gonna finish the whole bottle so early at this rate? When he hadn't even gotten to the main body of the report?

He was thinking about it, at least.

_On November 18th, 1962, at approximately 1709 hours, an Outsider Infiltrator breached XCOM's headquarters through the sewer system leading to Sub-Level Four. After disabling the main generators and planting an electro-magnetic pulse device for future use, the Infiltrator began to take on the appearance of other agents, attacking and killing a number of personnel and instilling paranoia among the rest. Its current objective at this point was unknown._

Another shot of whiskey. Paranoia...almost seemed like too soft a word for what happened. Friend turning on friend, shouting and arguing in darkness, even shooting on sight in some cases...it was brutal. It was horrifying.

It was fucking _brilliant_.

Another shot of whiskey, another low groan. Time to write the part that kept this report held up, as Dennis required information that only the witnesses had access to.

_At 2147 hours, the Infiltrator was found taking the form of Communications Operator Penelope Cohen, and eventually caught in a lie by Agent Summer Rose, Third Rank. Agent Rose, upon questioning the Infiltrator's intent, gleaned several relevant bits of intel, the most notable being the existence of an entity known as "Mosaic."_

Mosaic...if Dennis had any mirth left, he would have smiled at the irony. A mosaic was typically an art piece, a picture created out of thousands of tiny little individual pieces of glass or stone. When viewed up close, it resembled little more than just a collection of odd shapes and colors. But from a distance, the entire image became visible, and the pieces, so small and individual on their own, lost their identity in the sea of color.

Of all the words the Infiltrator could have used, it picked "mosaic". That had to mean _something._

But that was all the work of speculation. Right now, he was simply writing the facts.

_After its cover was blown, the Infiltrator attempted to escape, but was apprehended by the combined efforts of Agent Rose, Agent Thomas Nils, Third Rank, and Agent William Carter, Third Rank. Agents Rose and Nils sustained heavy injuries during the fighting, but they were ultimately successful. The Infiltrator regained consciousness shortly after capture, and is currently being kept under observation in Doctor Heinrich Dresner's laboratory on Sub-Level Four._

_The casualty report is as follows:  
_

Dennis went ahead and chugged half the bottle of whiskey, partly as a "reward" for getting this far, and partly to fortify his nerves for the list of names he was about to write. Because god knows there were a _lot_ of them.

_Ann...Kevin...the things I do to keep you safe…_

He slammed the bottle back down, adjusted his wedding ring, realigned the picture of his smiling son, and began typing out the names of the dead.

* * *

"Seriously? They _kept_ that thing?"

"Yeah, Faulke wanted answers from it. He's been trying to talk to it for a week now. But everytime he goes in, it just clams up like my girlfriend on prom night."

"Well what if it gets out? What the hell is the Director playing? I swear, if I lose another friend cause that shady four-eyed bastard fucked up, I'm gonna…"

"Shut up!"

"No, do go on. I'm quite curious what he thinks he'll do to me."

The two guards standing outside Dresner's lab suddenly went quite pale at the sound of Director Faulke's voice, snapping a panicked salute and swallowing nervously.

"N-nothing!" The guard on the left said, "M-Mark here didn't mean nothing! Just idle chit-chat, that's all!"

"Yeah, yeah," added the right guard hastily, "Just talking with Sean a bit. I uh...I got nothing against you, sir. Nope. No problem whatsoever."

Faulke sighed and shook his head. Idle gossip and unhappiness were already a problem this far underground. If there was mistrust and fear spreading around too, the Bureau might not last long enough for the Outsiders to defeat them. He stepped forward and put a hand on Mark's shoulder.

"You know that I keep an open door policy," he said gently, yet firmly, "and accept criticisms and suggestions. If you have issues and concerns with how I'm running things, don't be afraid to tell me. I don't want to be the kind of man who rules XCOM through fear. If you're more scared of me than you are of the Outsiders, then I've failed, and we might as well have already lost. Understood?"

Mark looked to the floor, his gaze softening. "Y-yes sir. It's just…"

"I know, Mark," said Faulke, patting his shoulder twice. "I know. And for what it's worth, I truly am sorry for the loss of your friend. We lost a lot of good agents in the Infiltrator attack. Rest assured that I refuse to let that happen again."

He looked over to Sean. "Have Weir and the surgery team arrived yet?"

"They're waiting inside for you now, Director," said the other guard with a nod. "Arrived just a few minutes ago."

"Very good," affirmed the Director with a nod. "Keep up the good work. Vigilo Confido, men."

"Vigilo Confido!"

Faulke stepped through the door and past the saluting guards, hearing them both give a sigh of relief before the metal slab slid shut behind him. He smiled inwardly, glad he'd helped defuse the situation. Being a good leader meant knowing when to be lax and when to be strict. When to loosen his grip and when to crack the whip. Experience and failure were his greatest teachers, and they'd served him many times throughout his storied life.

But he absolutely could not afford to let them coach him this time.

As he stepped into the chilled lab, he noticed how most of the projects Dresner liked to monitor were paused, as the doctor chose to put all his focus on the most important one. He and Doctor Weir stood on opposite sides of a surgical bed, a half-dissected Outsider corpse splayed out in front of them.

Faulke wrinkled his nose as he approached. "I certainly hope this isn't our alien guest."

"No, no, nothing of that sort," said Weir with a small laugh. "The surgery team merely wanted a better look at Outsider physiology, so we had this one brought up from cold storage to review what we already know."

Faulke nodded in approval. "And what exactly _do _we know about them?"

"Well, as you know, we've performed a number of autopsies on the Outsider corpses our recovery teams have brought in," said Dresner. "They appear to be largely carbon-based like us, presumably with the same base needs as any living being. However, they show extensive signs of mechanical augmentation, particularly in the circulatory, nervous, respiratory, skeletal, and muscular systems."

"These modifications are quite precise and consistent across multiple units," added Weir, using his pen to point out the exposed parts on the subject, "and appear to be synthetic in nature. Of particular interest is a small triangular bead located here, at the base of the skull, which resembles a computer chip of some kind. Unfortunately, my attempts to study these devices have been...less than successful, as the implants seem to burn themselves out upon the death of their host."

"It would help if our agents weren't so..._liberal _with explosives."

Weir shot an annoyed glare at Dresner, a rare sight for a man as calm as him. "We've discussed this numerous times, doctor.. Our agents need to do whatever it takes to - "

" - to survive in the field, yes, yes, I know," interrupted Dresner, waving his hand dismissively. "They do good work in the field, and they bring back many samples. I just wish they would use their Venn Braces more to capture more of them alive. It would certainly help with my...other experiments."

Faulke could tell Weir was about to say something about the dangers of 'close range', so he cleared his throat before the argument could start. "Regarding this 'bead'...you think it's important?"

"Very much so," said Weir, anger abating. "That component in particular receives the most damage from the 'burn out' process I mentioned. It's possible the failsafe comes from this device, maybe even triggers it based on external input."

"It may even be connected to this 'Mosaic' that Frauline Rose reported on," added Dresner. "But there's no way of knowing for sure. Not without looking at an...undamaged sample."

The director nodded. "So you plan on pulling this chip out of the Infiltrator's head while he's still alive."

Weir and Dresner shared a look, then nodded. It made the most sense. Whatever this Mosaic was, it seemed to affect the Infiltrator's actions on a subconscious level, possibly explaining why their prisoner was so reluctant to speak during Faulke's "conversations." If it could be removed, and studied, while also affecting the Outsider's behavior…

"We're just waiting on Nurse Walters and Agent Dawson to finish prepping for surgery," said Weir.

"_You are waiting no longer!" _A voice from the speaker above crackled. "_Come on in, Doctors and Director. The show is about to begin!"_

Faulke had to suppress a grimace as the red light above a door across the room turned green, as he and the doctors stepped into the small operating room built into Dresner's lab. Ordinarily this was used for autopsies on recovered corpses, which was usually done by a team of highly-trained surgeons. But no one else was brave enough to operate on a live Outsider, especially not on a live Outsider that had sent the entire base into disarray. No one, that is, except for the still-hurting Elizabeth Walters and the always-smiling Support Agent of Strike Three, both of whom likely held grudges against the patient but were professional enough to _mostly_ hide their disdain.

Gray Dawson approached the trio to pass out surgical masks while Elizabeth got to work on tightening the restraints holding the unamused, glaring Infiltrator down onto the surgery bed. "Okay, boss. So...good news and bad news."

The director wasn't in the mood for games. "Report," he commanded as he put on the mask.

"Good news is, our new friend here is stable and ready for his operation. Bad news is...none of the anesthetics we have in supply have been able to knock him out. So unless you wanna call Carter down here to smack him around a few more times…"

"Not an option."

"That's what I figured, just wanted to ask. In that case? He'll be completely conscious while we're cutting him open, and feeling everything. Sooo...this might get a little messy."

Despite his words, the corners of Dawson's smile never dipped beyond the edge of his own surgical mask. As if he was _thrilled _with the idea of performing a live surgery on the Infiltrator. Faulke wasn't sure if such a reaction warranted confidence or concern.

He'd decide later. The cold, silent glare of the Infiltrator reminded him of more pressing matters.

"If that's what it takes, then so be it. Begin the operation as soon as you're ready."

Dawson nodded, looking back at Walters as he snapped a pair of disposable gloves over his hands. "How's he doing, Liz? Is our little trooper all nice and snug?"

"Restraints are tightened and triple checked," answered the nurse, ice in her voice. "He's not getting out of these, no matter how much he squirms."

"Good. Then let's flip him over and get to work. Don't worry, mister alien - when we're done here, you can have all the ice cream you want. We even have a special flavor just for you - it's called _Coward's Chocolate Chunks._"

Despite the circumstances, Faulke almost smiled at the dissonant display as Dawson and Walters rotated the surgical bed like a barbecue roasting spit. As soon as the Infiltrator was upside down, the facade of cold anger shattered, and it began thrashing against its bindings. The nurse's work held firm, however, keeping it restrained in leather and steel as Dawson methodically selected a scalpel.

_So much for that stoic attitude._

"You pathetic creatures!" spat the Infiltrator, once it realized it wasn't escaping so easily. "Children with sharpened sticks pretending to be warriors and doctors and priests…"

"Mm-hmm…" mused Dawson, either not hearing or not listening to the Infiltrator's speech as he stepped over to the bed. "Base of the neck definitely shows signs of prior surgery. Healed over a while ago. Making the first incision to investigate…"

"...but the moment you find anything worth knowing, worth believing in, you just cut it open to see how it wo - _AAAAAUUGHHHH!_"

"Liz, be a dear and fetch the gag if you please," said Dawson as he lightly dragged the scalpel through the alien flesh. "It's a little hard to work with all the screaming."

Walters almost looked disappointed at the request, but nevertheless wedged a padded metal bar between the Outsider's teeth. It wasn't a perfect fit, what with the vertical lips and all, but at least the screams were muffled.

"Gag applied," she reported, securing the straps for stability.

"Thanks. Remind me to sew the mouth shut next time we do this. Now, let's see…"

With a curious expression, Dawson pinned back the split skin flaps to create a diamond-shaped window that left the underlying muscle and bones exposed. Faulke caught a glimpse of deep purple musculature and a steel-gray spine, lined with what appeared to be crystal-clear wires that ran up and down the length of the back. Judging by how the Outsider continued to scream into the foam gag, he could only guess that the pain from the live surgery was _excruciating._

Not that anyone in the room had much sympathy, of course.

"Looks like these glass threads go all the way down to the base of the spine," reported Dawson. "They seem to lead up to the skull, too. Might be our trail to the implant Weir's interested in. Making additional cuts to follow them."

Faulke watched and almost winced as Dawson ran his scalpel almost effortlessly along the back of the Infiltrator's neck, ignoring the gagged screams and attempted thrashing as the alien subject reacted poorly to the operation. Eventually, after cutting another small window to examine the base of the skull, the Support agent's eyes lit up. He'd found the chip.

"Aha! There you are. Look at you, all nice and functional. Lemme just cut these threads keeping you down, and then we can pull you out all nice and clean. Liz, get the tweezers and forceps ready."

"Already have them, Gray."

"Alright, here we go then...snip, snip, snip!"

Dawson's scalpel cut through the wires connected to the sides and tips of the greenish-blue metallic triangle, then gingerly separated the edges from the flesh and bone it had bonded to. Once that was done, Walters reached in with her tools and gently, carefully pulled the implant out, the device easily sliding out on three long metal prongs.

As soon as the tips of the implant left the flesh, the screams and the thrashing stopped.

"Well, would you look at that?" said Dawson with a smirk, "Looks like those anesthetics finally kicked in."

"Unlikely," said Walters as she dropped the implant into a glass tray, glancing at an EKG nearby. "Heart rate is still at normal levels, as is the respiration. Might be a response to having the chip removed."

"We've never been able to observe the effects of Outsiders separated from their implant," confirmed Weir, "It's possible that they've been bonded to these devices for so long that their brains effectively need to 'reboot' themselves to remember how to function without it."

"Fascinating…" mused Dresner, a wicked smile stretching across his face.

"We can look into it later," said Faulke impatiently. "For now, we need answers. Wake him up."

"You got it, boss. Sewing him back up now."

A few perfectly-placed stitches, sutures, and seams later, the exposed flesh was closed back up with nary a scar nor incision visible. The surgery bed was flipped back upright, and Walters immediately went about injecting vials into the alien's arm, then removing the gag.

"Okay. Bringing the patient back to consciousness...now."

And then the nurse unceremoniously slapped the alien across the face so hard that even _Faulke _felt it.

"That's probably not something they teach you in med school."

"Oh shut up, Gray."

The Infiltrator groaned as its glowing red eyes slowly came back into focus. "What's...happening? Where am I?" He looked to Faulke. "Who are you?"

Despite the layered voice lacking any kind of hostility, Faulke wasn't about to let his guard down.

"We'll be asking the questions here." He turned to Dawson and Walters. "Take him to recovery."

As he stepped out to let the doctors do their work, a small smile crept up on his face, hidden by the surgical mask.

Maybe now their alien guest might be willing to be a little more...talkative.

* * *

_Bang!_

Miss.

_Bang!  
_

Another miss.

_Bang!_

Oh, that one hit! ..no, wait, no, yet another miss.

_Click._

Penny sighed in dissatisfaction, searching for the magazine release lever on the pistol that Quartermaster Webb had loaned her. She was extremely grateful she was the only one at Sub-Level Three's firing range, because otherwise she'd likely have been chased out two hours ago. Only the old World War Two veteran responsible for the upkeep of the Bureau's weapons was there to witness her fiddle with the small gun in her hands, trying various buttons and switches before she finally found the one that sent the now-empty magazine clattering to the floor.

_Why am I doing this to myself?_

She already knew the answer to that thought as she leaned down to pick up the dropped magazine.

Because she couldn't get those awful _eyes_ out of her mind.

Those beady little red orbs that seemed to stare right through her, the chromed teeth that reflected what little light there was. The cold clammy hand that pushed against her mouth, suppressing her scream and attempts to warn Summer.

That was the last thing she saw in the Armory before she had passed out. Just after Summer had consoled her following her fight with Agent Percy, and just before she woke up to see Knox's stern but concerned gaze checking her over.

The Infiltrator had slipped away, had hurt Summer and Nils and so many other people, all because she was too helpless and shell-shocked to do anything to stop it.

She resolved to never be that weak again. And that meant learning how to defend herself.

Well...more like _beginning_ to learn, if the number of bullet holes _around_ the targeting sheet were any indication. But by God was she going to try.

"Mind if I join you?"

The sound of the voice behind her made Penny's heart flutter, followed by tears in her eyes. She set the gun down, pulled off her ear protectors, and practically launched herself into Summer's arms, wrapping her own tiny appendages around her friend's trunk and squeezing tightly. She pulled her glasses off to better rub her face against the larger woman's chest, feeling the warmth and security of her friend returning the hug. After squeezing the air out of each other, they parted slightly, giving Penny the chance to look up at Summer with a bashful smile.

God, how she so badly wanted to just reach up on her tippy toes and kiss those perfect lips, to be caressed by those strong muscular arms, to drown into those maddenly gorgeous silver eyes…

But that wouldn't be proper. Can't have any of that on a military base. She'd gotten in trouble for acting on those...urges before, and this job was too important to mess up. So she settled for reaching forward again, this time pressing her face into the taller woman's arm.

"You should be resting," she mumbled into Summer's shoulder. The silver-eyed woman chuckled softly, her breath tickling her ears as she started running a hand through Penny's dark, matted hair.

"I rested for almost ten straight days, Penny," said Summer. "I'm not hurt. I was just...tired."

"I'll bet." Penny didn't mean to sound so tired herself. But she was. She very much was.

The two of them just stood there, holding each other, grateful for the other's presence. Penny pulled her face away from Summer's muscles just long enough to catch a glimpse of Quartermaster Webb chuckling to himself, then stepping out of view. She closed her eyes and leaned into the embrace, grateful for the warmth that seemed to settle over them like magic.

The spell couldn't last forever, though.

"I'm sorry."

The comms operator pulled away, looking up at her friend who was no longer smiling. This was a crime, one she had to make right.

"It's okay. I'm not -"

"I abandoned you, Penny." Summer shook her head sadly. "That Infiltrator took your face, your voice, and I took it with me. I walked in the darkness, trying to comfort it, when it should have been you by my side."

"You still found it," said Penny, trying her best to smile. "And you knew enough about me to see through its disguise. I don't have many friends, so I don't think anyone else could have -"

Without another word, Summer pulled Penny into another hug, this one so tight Penny worried if she'd be able to breathe. She returned the hug instinctively. Half-breaths would have to suffice if she wanted to make Summer feel better.

"...I was so afraid I'd lost you…" she whispered. Now Summer was crying. An even worse crime than the missing smile. "That the Infiltrator had killed you or done something worse and I'd never get to share books or meals with you or that I'd never get to see you smile or hear you laugh and that I'd never be able to live with myself if you died because then you'd never find out that I've been _lying to everyone!_"

Penny's blood froze. Summer's last words had come out in a quiet hiss, but to her ear it sounded like a desperate scream. She pulled away from Summer, pushing with all her strength against those broad shoulders. The woman eventually loosened her grip, giving Penny a chance to put space between them again - and to reinflate her lungs.

"Wh...what do you mean?"

Summer wiped her eyes, flicking a few tears off her face. "Penny, I...I have something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you a while ago, but...couldn't. I'm - "

The comms operator put a single finger to Summer's lips, shushing her quietly.

"Not here. Follow me."

Resolve flooded into Penny as she returned the gun and led Summer by the hand back up the steps to their office, to the spacious room with a wide desk that lined the walls and provided enough space for two people to work at. Summer's half of the desk was neat, pristine, and orderly; Penny's half was messy and cluttered, with books, headsets, loose papers, and notes scattered about.

She motioned for Summer to take a seat at her side of the desk, which she did so. Then she retrieved a notebook and two pens out of the clutter, pulling her chair up next to Summer's and writing in neat, pristine penmanship.

_Faulke has microphones everywhere that record everything. It's how he knows what happens in the Bureau. If you're going to tell me a really important secret, it'd be best to do it like this._

Summer swallowed the lump in her throat, then took the other pen and wrote a reply shakily.

_Thank you. I'm not ready to tell the others yet._

Penny smiled inwardly. Looks like passing notes with pretty Veronica in sixth grade was finally paying off. And Mister Wormwood had derided them for such an "infantile activity that had no place in the world beyond school!" Ha! If he could only see her now.

Personal pride aside, she wrote her response.

_Why not?_

Summer stared at the paper, swallowing another lump before a shaky reply flowed out.

_Because I'm afraid of what will happen if they find out I don't actually have amnesia._

If there was a word to describe feeling both excited and terrified, Penny was certain it could be used to describe her at that moment.

_You remembered your past?_

_I never forgot it._

_Then why lie?_

_Because I'm not from Earth._

The excitement was gone. The terror took over. Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead as she read the message, as she gazed over Summer, trying to imagine how the silver-eyed beauty's face could split open to reveal a maw full of razor sharp teeth.

_Breathe_, she reminded herself, _Breathe and think. If Summer is an alien, she wouldn't out herself like this unless she _really _trusted you. And if she was going to hurt you, she would have done so by now._

Still, better safe than sorry. Her next few messages were less neat than her first few, but that hardly mattered.

_You're an alien?_

_Yes._

_Are you with the Outsiders?_

_No._

_Do you want to hurt us?_

_Absolutely not._

The conviction in Summer's eyes (as well as the way she had underlined her last answer several times) was all the proof Penny needed that she was telling the truth. But there was still something that confused her.

_You look human, though._

Summer almost looked insulted for a moment, then smiled.

_I am human. Just...not an Earth human._

Humans could exist on planets besides Earth? That was already intriguing. Perhaps Captain Thunderclap wasn't as unrealistic as Penny had previously thought. Well, not for that reason at least.

_Where are you from, then?_

_Remnant._

_What's it like?_

Summer hummed thoughtfully, tapping the tip of her pen against her chin before finally writing a brief paragraph.

_It's a lot like Earth, but smaller. We don't have all these countries, we just have four kingdoms. Less people, too. And we don't have stuff like oil or nuclear weapons. We have...other kinds of technology though. I trained to be a warrior, to protect the people I love. _

Penny's imagination took over, and in her mind's eye she saw sprawling cities with castles made out of rising glass, guarded by knights in shining silver armor. And at the forefront of those armored warriors was Summer Rose, gleaming sword in hand with a massive flowing cape billowing dramatically behind her. The entire battalion of knights saluted her, and by her command, they charged into battle on golden dragons against an unknown enemy, a mass of darkness and red eyes that sought only to tear down what the humans on Remnant had built.

She would later learn, through further conversations with Summer, that her imagination wasn't _quite_ that far from the truth, though not as elegant or beautiful. But the image of Summer dressed up as a literal alien knight brought a light blush to her cheeks.

Then she imagined Summer Rose in an outfit like Wonder Woman's, and the blush only darkened. She bit her lip, and began writing again.

_How did you get here?_

_I don't know._

_Can you go back?_

_I hope so._

Penny bit her lower lip once more, noting the sorrow in Summer's eyes. If she wasn't sure how she got here, then that confirmed that this Remnant didn't have a space program like the Outsiders did. So at least Earth wouldn't have to worry about _another _alien invasion.

But that wasn't what worried Penny in the moment.

_Do you miss it?_

_Yes._

_What do you miss the most?_

She almost regretted asking as Summer wrote with tears forming in her eyes.

_My family. My husband and two daughters. They have no idea I'm alive, they must think I'm dead at this point, and I have no way to tell them where I am._

Penny's heart shattered. Not just for the situation Summer found herself in, but also for any prospect of a relationship between her and the woman by her side. She had a feeling that Summer hadn't felt that way towards women - people like Penny were hard enough to find - but she should have realized that _of course_ someone as amazing and beautiful and wonderful as Summer would have found love already. Even if they were on another world, the gorgeous Rose's love for her family was apparent, as visible as the shimmering silver eyes that fought to keep back tears.

The comms operator reached over and took Summer's hand in both of hers, squeezing it gently and drawing shapes on the palm. The heartbreak of yet another stillborn romance would fade, like it had so many times before. Right now, Summer Rose needed a _friend._

And Penny was determined to be that friend.

Summer finally let the tears burst through her mental dam, reaching forward and hugging Penny while crying in relief of finally being able to bear her true pain. The comms operator returned the embrace, rocking her softly just as she'd done for her. Her top became stained with mucus and tears, Summer's feeble whimpers and sobs almost prompted Penny to do the same, and the grip around her waist was so forceful it felt like she might snap in half. She didn't mind too much. She pressed her cheek against Summer's, running fingers through the black-red hair carefully and putting her lips next to the alien woman's ear.

"I _love _you, Summer," she whispered as softly as she could, "You've been...the most wonderful light in this darkness. Not just for me, but for everyone. The entire base loves you, Summer. Maybe not the same way I do, but it's there. You inspire everybody - from people like Mister Carter to people like me - to do more, to _be _more. To keep fighting, even when there's nothing left worth fighting for. And...it's okay if you don't love me as much as I love you, or the same way I do. I'll _always_ be your best friend, your pillar of support, your confidant. And I won't tell anyone else what you've told me. Not a soul. Not until you're ready to tell them, if you ever get to that point. And when you do...you have my full support."

She planted a gentle kiss on Summer's cheek, lingering for a moment before forcing herself back, pressing cheeks once more.

"I promise, I'll be here until the end."

Penny could make out a brief choked "thank you" before a fresh wave of tears spilled out, though thankfully this seemed to be the last of the sorrow Summer had been concealing. She pulled back, wiping her face on her sleeve, and gave her best attempt at a glowing smile. The expression was bittersweet, and contained the all-too-familiar "I wish I could love you back" look the young woman had grown accustomed to, but it still held so much charm that Penny had to fight the urge to go in for another hug.

Instead, her excitement flowed over into her pen.

_So tell me more about Remnant. How many people are there? What's the climate like? What about the food? Can you describe the ecosystem? The economy? How many continents are there? Have you figured out astronomy yet? What's your solar system like? How many planets orbit your sun? How many moons do you have? And where is Remnant relative to the other planets? Do you have any kind of standardized measurement system? Language? Mathematics? Science? _

Summer's expression of relief soon morphed into one of shock at just _how fast _Penny was writing. Then she smiled, shook her head, and picked up her own pen.

_Well, maybe I should start at the beginning. Like I said before, the people on Remnant live under the protection of four separate kingdoms. There's Atlas to the north, Mistral to the east, Vacuo to the west, and Vale - that's where I come from - right in the middle of the other kingdoms. Each kingdom has its own values and beliefs, but they all try to live in harmony with each other - and they're mostly successful, though more out of necessity than principle…_

For the next several hours, the two women "talked" endlessly about Remnant, and how it was different and similar to Earth. Penny didn't understand all of it, but she understood that talking about it made Summer happy.

And for now? That was more than enough.

* * *

"You're married, Mike? You never mentioned that."

Nico DaSilva spared a glance from the open road to look at the bewildered expression on Kinney's face in the rear-view mirror, smiling at Redmont's bemused expression.

"Yep, been married fifteen years now," said the dark-skinned, kind Support agent of Strike Two. "My beautiful Katy and I met during med school, when I was training up to be a field medic to join the Allies. Course, by the time I finished up my basic training, Hitler had already given up and the war was already won, but I didn't mind too much. Gave me more time to settle down and start thinking of my future...and that future involved her."

Kinney smiled. "Cool! How'd you do it?"

Redmont chuckled, his deep yet gentle voice carrying over the rushing wind. "Oh, you know. A few drinks, a lot of talking, and we discovered there was something there. Didn't help that I ended up serenading her…"

"No way! You can sing?"

"That's what folks say, anyways."

"Well come on then! Don't leave me in suspense, sing us a little number!"

Redmont smiled, then cleared his throat, and started singing in a rich honeyed voice. Kinney and DaSilva laughed at first as they recognized the song, then joined in by the end.

_K-K-K-Katy, beautiful Katy_

_You're the only g-g-g-girl that I adore_

_When the m-m-m-moon shines over the cow shed_

_I'll be waiting at the k-k-k-kitchen door_

_K-K-K-Katy, beautiful Katy_

_You're the only g-g-g-girl that I adore_

_When the m-m-m-moon shines over the cow shed_

_I'll be waiting at the k-k-k-kitchen door_

The three men in the red Bel Air laughed uproariously as the song ended, their laughter carried away on the wind.

"Man…" said Kinney as he shook his head, "Nils and Liz are going steady, you've apparently been married this whole time, Nico's divorced and getting girls every other week...and here I am, never getting kissed by any girl but my momma!"

"Ah, you're young," said Redmont encouragingly, "You'll find love in your own time. Keep your chin up, you'll find someone."

"What about that silver-eyed girl in Strike Three?" DaSilva teased as he looked back at the road. "You seem pretty interested in Summer Rose."

"That's-!" Kinney blushed and tried to hide his face. "I don't! I can't...I mean, have you _seen _her in action? You think I have a shot with _that_?"

"Never know until you try," advised Redmont. "Maybe you can impress _her _with your singing voice."

As much as DaSilva wanted to keep talking, he tapped the side of the car. "Lessons will have to wait, though. We're close."

With that, he steered his car off the side of the road, driving the "borrowed" convertible up to the top of a hill before stopping at the overlook.

There, the three men looked across the field...and gasped.

It was an impressive sight, to be sure. Miles and miles of wheat and corn and other staple crops, not too far from the harvest and stretching as far as the eye could see. But the beauty of the world wasn't what provoked a reaction. That was the job of the thirteen perfect circles that dotted the landscape in strange, almost haphazard arrangements in the fields. More of them extended into the horizon, out of visual range in the setting sun. And along the edges of the crop circles extended thin rows of trampled stalks, forming perfect pathways that were almost invisible to the naked eye.

"I thought that old farmer back in town said there were only _nine _circles," said Kinney in disbelief.

"He did," confirmed Redmont, "Which means that there's _more _of them now than there were when this first happened."

"And if each of those crop circles are cloaked ships…" mused DaSilva, "and each ship is carrying a building crew…"

He pulled a specially-modified pair of binoculars from the pack on the front passenger's seat, activating the thermal vision mode as he zoomed in on the foremost circle. There seemed to be some kind of rudimentary start of a structure, and he could see shuffling humanoid figures lining the pathways between the circles. Whatever the aliens planned on building, they'd already started, and DaSilva doubted that they'd cleared their construction with the Roswell City Council.

"But why hide themselves in the first place?" Kinney asked. "Why now? They've had no qualms about just attacking out in the open before. Why not just raze Roswell and build over it?"

"Maybe they need the people that live there?" Redmont offered. "Maybe they need the infrastructure. Or they've changed tactics. What do you think, Nico? ...Nico?"

DaSilva didn't hear the question at first over the insanely loud humming in his ears. It wasn't painful or especially disruptive, but it was unsettling. His teeth rattled and his spine reflexively shivered, but he did his best to keep his composure until the strange sound finally went away.

"Sir? Sir! Sir, you okay?" Kinney's voice was on the edge of panic.

The Squad Leader shook his head. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just got a ringing in my ear for some reason." He looked back at the young Engineer and forced a smirk. "Must be someone talking about me back at base."

Kinney didn't seem all that reassured. Redmont didn't look convinced. "Nico, I think we really ought to take a look at you. You've been spacing out a lot lately. We still don't know what being this close to alien ships does to people, and we should take every available precaution to -"

"I'm _fine, _dammit!" DaSilva snapped back, in a tone of voice that surprised even him. Ignoring the shocked look on his teammate's faces, he took a breath and continued in his usual voice. "Besides, I heard your question loud and clear. And I don't think they're trying to hide from the people."

He focused his binoculars just in time to see someone shamble towards the edge of the nearest crop circle, then vanish altogether.

"I think they're trying to hide from _us."_

The binoculars clicked, then printed out a fresh photograph that came out looking like a black square. DaSilva grabbed it and fanned the photo a few times, the image becoming clearer in seconds. He handed it over to Kinney and Redmont, who studied it closely.

"Definitely looks like they're using Sleepwalkers to help with construction," said Kinney. "But why?"

DaSilva smirked as he turned the keys in the ignition, the Bel Air's engine roaring back to life as he switched gears.

"Well...why don't we go and find out?"


	13. Making Waves

A/N: This is another one of those "side mission" chapters, though unlike Operation Guardian this one isn't really based on any one mission in particular. I'll also admit it's a little self-indulgent on my part, because if there's one thing I love in fiction, it's underwater scenes. And I'll be darned if I didn't write a story with at least one of those. Had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Keep movin', lads! Stay on the attack!"

Summer rushed up into cover alongside the red-headed Mucallin brothers, joining their suppressive fire with her own as the three of them advanced. On her left and right, various members of Strikes Three and Five moved into position, lobbing grenades and smokescreens alike and saturating the battlefield in explosions and salmon-shaded shrouds. For today's mission, Faulke had seen fit to deploy two Strike Teams simultaneously to assault the objective, with Carter taking the lead and Strike Five's leader - a veteran British sniper named Jordan Loveday - filled in as his ASL. That meant that, for today at least, Summer was just another rank-and-file Agent, one of the ten that was currently spread out across the battlefield. Two Engineers, a Recon agent, three Support agents, a Huntress in disguise, and _three_ Commandos, ...any other mission, such a roster would have been overkill.

Against an Outsider outpost tower, it was the only thing keeping them alive.

The outpost in question was a massive tower built on a platform above the surface of Lake Michigan, just a few miles off the coast of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Although it was winter and hardly the season for beach goers, conservationists had noticed that the water level of the lake had been slowly declining in recent months. This, coupled with reports from locals of a strange tower suddenly appearing in the distance, gave the Bureau enough information to put two and two together and locate the outpost. No one was quite sure why the Outsiders were draining the lake, but no one seemed too pleased with the idea either. It was a relatively straightforward mission - storm the tower, neutralize the Field Commander manning the outpost, salvage whatever useful tech they could, and return the stolen water.

Easier said than done, though, as the tower was _very _well defended.

"_Three Outsider firing squads with Drone support incoming!"_

"_Lime-Five and Alpha-Three, drop those Drones! Supports, keep the Commandos covered in smoke while they draw the firing squad's attention! Echo-Five and Romeo-Three, take out the east and west ones! Sierra-Three, take those bastards in the center out!"_

The already-chaotic battlefield became even more discordic as twin laser blasts cored the drones, while three perfectly-placed smoke grenades fell at the feet of Knox and the Mucallin brothers. Summer surged forward as satchel charges and landmines courtesy of Shen and Briggs scattered two of the deadly formations, drawing her blade in anticipation as she charged the line.

Although her Muton dueling blade remained unchanged, something about it felt different as it extended in her hands. After her duel with the Infiltrator in the Morgue, Summer had done some thinking, and realized that she'd neglected a facet of Huntress life that had been almost integral back on Remnant. Back home, Huntsmen and Huntresses _thrived_ on giving their weapons imaginative, personalized touches, names that held meaning and represented core tenets and beliefs their wielders held. An extension of their Aura, and by extension, their very soul. Even the simplest sword and shield could hold generations' worth of stories, passed down from parent to child as it was used to strike down the Grimm and protect the innocent.

A weapon like her Muton blade, which had carried her through numerous fights, deserved the same treatment.

Thus, _Wandering Thorn_ earned its name.

Flashes of red preceded splashes of blue as hands and heads were severed and sent flying. Summer's invisible shield protected her from most of the retaliatory fire, letting her carve a bloody path through the alien ranks with little resistance. The mighty battle cries of her Scottish allies seemed to banish all fatigue from her bones, and terrorized the leftover troops long enough for them to be cut down by a pair of LMGs.

"That's the ticket, lass!" shouted Jack, the shorter of the two as he snapped a new box of ammo into his M60. "You'd make a mighty fine Mucallin, you would!"

Summer grinned as she retreated back into safety. "Thanks, Juliett! One of my favorite parts of the job, really."

The ponytail-sporting redhead cackled madly. "Aye. And _this_ is mine!"

He pulled a disposable rocket launcher off his back, aimed at a cluster of Sectoids, and fired, sending the little gray men flying in chunks of burning flesh.

"Ha! Good call, little brother!" called Alfred over the din of battle.

A nearby Support agent, a middle-aged Spanish Interpol medic named Rodrigo Diaz, didn't seem quite as enthusiastic. "Careful with those rockets, Juliett," he said as he rolled his eyes, snapping a fresh cell into his laser SMG, "Those things can hurt you just as much as it can hurt these things."

"Sure, sure, but then you can just patch me up, right?"

"I'd really rather if I didn't _have _to."

Summer was about to join in on the banter herself when Loveday's voice crackled through the radio. "_More troops coming in from the top! Loads more Outsiders and Sectoids, plus one of those bloody Mutons!"_

_"I want overlapping lanes of fire as soon as those doors open," _growled Carter, "_Cut down as many of them as you can before they get a chance to rush for cover, then deal with whatever lives."_

The troops moved to follow the orders, Summer and Knox taking center position while Alfred and Diaz went left, followed by Jack and Max going right. Smokescreens, satchel charges, and proximity mines were flung with reckless abandon, and as soon as the front of the tower opened, lasers and lead rained down.

It should have been a flawless plan.

Except it wasn't.

"_Ah shite! The Muton's tanking all our shots!"_

_"Outsiders are flinging those ruddy Sectoids to trip the mines ahead of them!"_

_"They've got a sniper somewhere! Golf just got his shield blasted!"_

_"GRENADES! GET OUTTA THE SMOKE!"_

_"Fall back! They're opening fire!"_

Summer rushed back to the south end of the platform with most of the rest of the operatives, doing her best to duck and dodge the storm of red that chased them. She yelped as a shot from the Muton's Scatter Blaster bled its heat into her shoulders, shattering her shield and burning out its power cell. She just barely managed to recover her footing, scrambling back into cover with a pained sigh.

To her right, she saw Jack slide into some cover just south of a gun tower, on the very edge of the main platform.

To her left? She saw the other Scottish Commando get knocked off his feet by another blast from the armored alien.

Summer didn't need the radio to hear Jack's anguished scream.

"_Alpha-Five just hit the deck! Somebody stabilize him!"_

_"There's too many of them! And they're getting too close!"_

_"I'll try to clear some space with a Push! Grab him as soon as you see an opening!"_

_"Juliett-Five, we need a rocket on that Muton NOW!"_

The lone standing Scottish Commando tore his gaze away from his fallen brother, pulled another rocket tube from his pack, and aimed squarely at the hulking mass of green and gray. "One rocket comin' for big green! _This is for Alfred, you blooming bastard!_"

At that very moment, three things happened in very quick succession that turned the mission from "bad" to "worse" in less than a second.

The first was that the hidden Sniper lined up a shot on Jack just as he squeezed the trigger, punching a single beam of pure red death squarely into his ribs. The Commando howled in pain, recoiling and falling to one knee.

The second was that the force from the shot threw off Jack's aim just as the rocket's propulsion ignited, sending it veering off course. The explosive payload sailed harmlessly over the Muton's head, instead crashing into one of the fortified guntowers the Outsiders had set up.

The third was that when the rocket exploded, it took out one of the three support legs of the tower, making it teeter uncertainly for a moment before falling...straight for where Jack was currently kneeling, groaning in pain.

Summer's blood froze as she watched certain death fall towards the injured Mucallin. Before she could stop herself, she ran towards Jack, throwing herself at the fallen trooper and trying to grab him, lift him, move him out of harm's way. But all she really succeeded in doing was pushing herself and her fellow Agent into an uncontrolled flight off the edge of the platform, hanging in mid-air for just a moment before gravity took hold again.

The good news was that she and Jack had cleared the falling tower.

The bad news was that they were now falling towards the surface of the lake below them.

The sound of Carter (and everyone else) screaming over their radios became lost in the howling wind that whipped past them. Summer grunted and groaned as she tried to twist and turn in mid-air, angling herself and the soldier's limp form to reduce as much surface area as possible. She knew that from this height, with the water below her, the fall wouldn't kill them. Not if she dove in properly. But it was still going to hurt like hell even if done perfectly, and the landing wouldn't even be the worst part compared to what came after it.

Summer had just enough time to try to pull as much air into her lungs as possible before her feet and legs hit the water with a deafening splash.

The entire world went quiet.

_Cold. Cold cold cold. _That was all that Summer was able to process about her new surroundings. The fact that it was cold. Cold and dark. Her legs felt like they were made of jelly, precious air leaked out of her nose and mouth before she clamped her jaw and locked her throat shut, and if she could see, she'd be able to follow those bubbles to the surface that seemed a million miles away.

Not that she needed light to know which way was up. She had specifically landed so that her feet were already pointing down. Her body had done its best to stay as straight and flat as a board as it cut through the water, so the surface and all the air she could ever want was right above her head. All she had to do now was kick.

And kick she did, putting all her strength into her calves, the shock of impact shaking off as she frog and flutter kicked her way towards what she really hoped was the surface. Her free arm clawed and dug through the darkness, her other arm occupied with holding onto her precious cargo.

The soldier in her grasp wasn't struggling. In a way, that was good. It meant they wouldn't be fighting her as she made her desperate ascent, one that was already difficult enough without them thrashing and squirming in a panic. It took all her concentration to keep herself from succumbing to shock and fatigue, from flailing around and blowing out all her breath in silent screams, to will her legs to keep kicking despite feeling like they were tied down with lead. And the current that threatened to pull her back down and undo all her progress didn't help.

It was hard for Summer to fight against the current. Harder when her air reserves started to dwindle. And harder still when she was carrying two hundred pounds of what very well could have been dead weight. But she forced herself to keep pressing on, to use every muscle in her body, to spend every bit of breath she still had to power her arms and legs.

She couldn't deny her base instincts forever.

A strained gurgle escaped Summer's throat, and she almost, reflexively, followed up the forced exhale with an inhale. She managed to stop herself by clamping her nose and mouth shut with her free hand, denying any more water entry into her lungs. But the damage was done, and the effect took its toll. She was starting to drown, and the surface was still so far away.

Part of her brain screamed at her to drop the soldier. Not to abandon them, just cast them aside long enough to shoot up, grab a nice fresh breath of air, then dive back down to retrieve them with replenished lungs. She rejected such a plan almost immediately - not only was it horrible, it was also risky. There was no guarantee she'd be able to find the soldier in the darkness again after she ascended, and worse, the current might pull them all the way back down again.

Besides, if _she _was drowning at this point, then the soldier had even _less _time than she did.

No. Whatever happened, she and her rescued agent were in this together.

So she closed her eyes, focused not on the burning lungs, but only on her legs, willing them to kick powerfully and rhythmically. One stroke. Two strokes. Three strokes. Four. Then again. And again. And again. Just like back then…

* * *

As her body continued to swim through the murky depths, her mind itself swam through an old memory. This wasn't Summer's first brush with a watery demise. Once, on the farm, when she was younger, a family had come to visit. They wanted to buy chickens for their homestead in Patch. Well, the parents did at least. The little boy they'd brought with them seemed more interested in the _other_ kind of chicks on the farm.

He was cute, in his own way. Tanned skin. Messy blonde hair. He was a little too young for any of her sisters to see him as anything other than an adorable surrogate little brother, so he tried his wily seven-year-old charms on wooing Summer. She wasn't sure she understood at the time - boys still had cooties, and all - but she liked the attention. So she spent the afternoon with him while their parents argued over egg prices.

They were walking on a bridge over a river when the boy decided to up his game. He climbed on top of the railing separating safety and certain death, and loudly proclaimed that he would walk along the edge to win Summer's hand. And to his credit? He certainly did walk along that edge. He made it a full ten steps before he tripped on his own shoelace and fell off, disappearing into the river below.

Without screaming for help, alerting the grownups, or even casting off her favorite white sundress, Summer dove in after him.

It wasn't as cold or dark as the water around her now. But the current was certainly stronger. She did her best to follow the golden head as it sporadically splashed and flailed its arms on the surface, trying to keep above the rushing river. Summer was a strong swimmer, and she managed to catch up to the boy. But in his panic, he clutched onto her with both arms and legs, trying to use her as a flotation device but only succeeding in pulling them both under.

Her seven-year-old arms and legs were strong, but the current was stronger. So was the boy, as evidenced by the fact that his death squeeze was strong enough to crush all the air from Summer's lungs, her breath billowing around her in bubbly screams. "Let go!" she kept shouting, but the message was drowned out by the river, moments before she started to suffer the same fate. Her silver eyes went wide as she took her first gulp of river water, and as awful as it tasted, she couldn't keep herself from a second helping.

Whatever strength she had in her had left, joining the bubbles that floated to the surface beyond her reach.

She should have drowned then.

And yet, something inside her stirred.

Despite the empty lungs, the burning throat, the tired legs, and the boy who was accidentally killing her, she refused to relent.

She puffed whatever air she had left into her cheeks, making a face of determination that only a child knew how to make. She kicked and pulled her arms to her side, doing her best to overcome the current as one arm wrapped back around the boy. It must have triggered something in him as well, because he loosened his grip and started kicking as well, pulling her up just as much as she was pulling him.

The river wanted her to die.

But her spirit refused.

After finally breaking the surface and gasping for air, the two children had worked in tandem to cut across the river to the nearest shore. The boy wasn't as strong a swimmer as she was, but he was strong enough to pull his own weight and let Summer handle hers. By the time the adults finally realized what had happened, the kids had managed to pull themselves onto dry land, shivering and coughing and groaning and gasping but alive.

The boy's name was Taiyang, and twenty years later, she'd end up marrying the damn fool.

As the memory came to an end, part of her wondered if she'd end up marrying this soldier too.

* * *

Fortunately, she'd have the chance to find out as now, just like back then, she finally broke the surface.

Her first breath of air sounded like a violent shriek, and it was almost wasted given just _how much water _was in her throat. She hacked and coughed and vomited the unwanted fluid forcibly, wheezing and gasping as she started treading water. Taking a moment to make sure that the agent in her grasp had their head above the water, she swam for the nearest solid object, which in this case happened to be a cave that had been exposed by the receding surface. One exhausted swim later, Summer finally climbed onto the muddy cave floor looking less like a dignified huntress and more like a drowned rat. The soldier she'd saved didn't look much better, but at least flopping onto the cave floor was enough of a shock to wake him up without Summer having to resuscitate him.

As Jack coughed up lake water and curled over onto his side, his savior did the same before pulling out her radio...only to frown as more water poured out of the flooded electronic device.

_Looks like I won't be able to signal Carter and the rest of them for a while,_ she thought. _Not until this damn thing dries out. _

She clicked her Venn Brace, flooding the cave with light. Then she drew Wandering Thorn, fully extended it, and plunged it into the ground once it was at full power. _Thank the gods that Outsider tech and the stuff Dresner makes are waterproof, _she thought as she warmed herself up next to the heated blade. Then she cast a glance at Jack, who was clutching his side and whimpering in pain.

_Oh. Right. He got _shot.

"Hold on, Jack," whispered Summer, fishing a small vial of a grayish fluid with an aerosol spray cap out of her pack. It wasn't as big as a Medkit, and it wasn't as effective, but this one-use healing solution could still mend major injuries. At least for long enough to get the person proper medical care. "Open your jacket, and I'll patch you up."

Jack looked over at Summer, with the vial of life-saving mist, and shook his head fervently.

"I...I can't…"

Summer frowned. Was Jack _really _being self-conscious right now? "If you're worried about appearing indecent, don't. It's just the two of us, and I've seen shirtless men before. And we're both adults here, there's no reason to -"

"Yes there is," coughed Jack, flecks of blood staining his sleeve as he hugged his drenched jacket tighter.

"Jack Mucallin," said Summer in her "authoritative Huntress" voice. "You took a direct hit from an Outsider Sniper, which have been observed _multiple times _to cause fatal injuries without treatment. Furthermore, your wound was left exposed to bacteria in the lake water, and that fluid may have seeped its way into your respiratory system through that gaping hole. Carter and his healing hands are not here to provide treatment, and neither of us are proper medics. So you are going to remove your jacket so I can properly apply this to the wound...or you are going to _die. _Which would you prefer?"

The red-headed Mucallin was quiet, as if honestly considering the two options as equal. Then he sighed, muttered "only if you promise not to tell anyone else" and began pulling off his jacket.

Or rather, as Summer soon discovered, _her _jacket.

The silver-eyed huntress watched as the woman across from her cast off the sopping wet jacket to reveal well-toned muscles on a distinctly female frame, as well as layers of white cloth strips to conceal and compress her more womanly features. The female soldier noticeably breathed a lot more easily once the bindings were loosened, but pain shot across her torso as she clutched a bloodied, burnt wound. Summer tore her gaze away from the abs and chest and immediately got to work on spraying the Scottish woman's injury, watching as the infected scab receded and the hole slowly started to close in on itself.

The woman sighed in relief, pulling the hair tie from her ponytail and letting long, soaked red curls fall freely, as Summer gingerly inspected the wound. "Does it still hurt?"

"A wee bit," she answered, her voice no longer sounding as raspy or forced, "Not as much, though. Thanks, lass."

Summer nodded, pulling back and scooting closer to the sword serving as a portable space heater. "Of course. Though I think...reintroductions are in order, miss…"

"You can keep calling me 'Jack' if you'd like," she said with a breathy chuckle as she joined Summer by the hot blade. "Never was fond of the name mum gave me. Jaqueline Mucallin...a pretty name, to be sure, for some floofy princess. Not for a rough and tumble lass like myself."

"I see...and what about Alfred? Is he a woman in disguise too?"

Jack let out an unladylike snort. "If he was, he's been doing a wicked job of hidin' it for ten years or so. He's me husband."

Summer chuckled. "A husband and wife duo fighting aliens together. That's so..._romantic._"

The smile on Jack's face shone brighter than the glowing Muton sword she curled up by. "Glad ye think so, lass." Then she frowned. "Though I reckon not many people would feel the same…"

The homeless huntress raised an eyebrow. "How do you know? Has anyone told you as much? Who all knows?"

"Faulke knows, obviously," said Jack. "Reckon he wouldn't let me fight otherwise. And the medics and doctors probably know - kinda hard to hide my knockers when I'm getting patched back up." She pointed to her now-loose chest, which proudly sported breasts of modest size. "Pretty sure most of the lads on Strike Five know, or at least are on the verge of figgerin it out. Beyond that, no idea. And I'd rather keep it that way, I would."

"But why?" Summer had confusion written all over her face. "Why hide who you really are? I know the Bureau almost exclusively employs men as Agents, but clearly they don't have a problem with women serving if they show they can fight. Just look at me and Weaver."

"Aye, but you're a special case, lass," Jack said with a chuckle. "Most of us aren't the sort to swing off a platform and crash into an enemy squad with nothing but a pointed stick. I'm a good fighter, damn good with the blade like all Mucallins, but even I'm not at that level. Not yet, at least. And Weaver...from what I understand, she had to _fight_ for the chance to be an agent. Cause in most cases, it's not the lack of skill that's keeping lasses off the roster. It's...a lot of things."

Jack frowned, staring into the red glow of Wandering Thorn for a while in silence. Summer waited for her to speak again.

"I dunno how much you remember, lass...but you ever been to Scotland?"

Summer shook her head. "Can't say I have, no."

"Didn't think so. Wanted to see. It's a lovely place. Open skies and plains and mountains and _lochs_ as far as the eye can see. And despite how many people are living there, there's still a lot of folks who belong to big families. Old families, with roots and bloodlines that go all the way back to the days of swords and horses. These families, these clans, they try to keep the old ways alive. A lot of them favor the lads, and how big and strong they are. But there are some, like mine, who see the strength and power in both the lads and the lasses."

Jack looked up. "For as long as I can remember, Clan Mucallin's been training kids to grow up into warriors, no matter what's between their legs. My mum, my grandmum, and her mum before her...they were all amazing, fierce, and strong. Everything I ever aspired to be when I was a wee little lass. So imagine my shock when I go to a recruiting center to do my part...only to be turned away from the infantry because o' my lady parts."

"But you clearly have soldier training," said Summer, "and talent. So how'd you get in?"

"Had to have a cousin pull some strings," said Jack with a darkened expression. "Forge some documents to get me past the screening process, request a family friend as an on-site doctor who'd treat me exclusively. All I had to do was cut my hair, bind up my chest, and pretend to be a lad for however long I was in the military. I fooled the lot of them. But not Alfred. Called himself 'Sir Alfred Carlyle' when we first met. He was too clever to be fooled. We got on pretty well - so well, in fact, that we ended up marrying soon as our tour of duty was done. After that, we went on another tour with a new unit, but...it just became easier to introduce ourselves as the 'Mucallin brothers' than to try to explain the situation. And that's how it's been for about ten years now."

She sighed. "Boys have...always had an odd idea in their head. When people go to war, it's always the men that are called, while the women get left behind. Sure, I can understand why on a biological level - women are the ones that can have the babies, the men go off to keep them safe so they can keep popping out the wee little ones back home. But say a lass can't do that, or doesn't want to, and wants to make a difference by fighting alongside the lads? Well, that's just too bloody bad, she gets told to go home and cook with the rest of the girls."

Summer shook her head. "That sounds…"

"Awful? Unfair? Prejudiced?" Jack curled up a little tighter. "Aye. It's all those things and more. Everytime we ask to fight, we get told some new excuse. The Bureau might be fighting a global threat, but it's still an American program. And Americans are _really _picky about who gets to fight their wars."

"Well...maybe we can change that."

Jack looked up at Summer, whose silver eyes seemed to shimmer in the crimson light.

"You said it yourself, Weaver and I are special cases. But so are you. Look at yourself. A warrior from an old family, a woman who knows all about warfare, combat, and knows her way around heavy weaponry. You kept pace with the rest of us out there, when we were under heavy fire, and you barely broke a sweat. And that was _with _your upper torso in what's basically a vice grip. You can probably do so much more once you're actually able to _breathe _properly."

The Mucallin woman cracked a small smile as Summer continued.

"We're fighting a war for survival, yes, but we're also fighting to change the world, not just save it. So maybe, when history looks back on us, and the role we played in this war - if it ever does - they won't see the fact that women openly fought as a desperate measure. Maybe they'll instead see it as two girls taking their first steps to become equals to their fellow agents in every way, shedding the traditions of the past to make new ones for the future. Doesn't that sound like something a Mucallin would do?"

Green eyes stared back into silver for a moment, then looked down at the glowing muton blade in the ground, lost in thought. Eventually, a small smile crept up on Jack's face, and she stood back up and pulled her (somewhat dried) jacket back on.

"Aye. That it does. But maybe we should be finding a way out of this mess we're in first."

Summer nodded with a smile, then picked up Wandering Thorn from its resting spot, using it like a torch to shine red light through the cave entrance. She poked her head out, craning her neck to try to get a glimpse of the alien platform above.

To her surprise, the sound of gunfire and lasers discharging echoed across the surface of the lake like rain in the night. She wasn't sure how long she and Jack had been down in the cave, but it must have been anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour. If the rest of their Strike Teams were still up there, then that meant they hadn't managed to make _any_ progress except stay alive. Which, considering the odds, was an impressive feat in and of itself.

"Sounds like the fight's still on," she reported, "If we hurry back, we can get up there and -"

"Hold up a tick, lass. Something's off about this cave here…"

Summer turned to see Jack examining the back wall, running one hand over the stonework and knocking with the other. "What do you mean? It's a _cave._"

"To your eyes, maybe," replied Jack, "but I spent my days as a wee lass exploring the caves around and in Scottish _lochs_. Ye can tell when the water carves at the stone to make an opening - the surface is all grainy and rough, like running a hand over a pimply babe's bum. This feels too smooth, too soft...this wasn't made by Nature's hands, nor by man's."

"So what are you saying?" Summer asked inquisitively, "The Outsiders made this cave?"

"Aye. They must have."

"Why? For what reason?"

Jack looked back and grinned as she drew back her Venn Brace, the tip sparkling with electricity.

"Dunno, lass. Let's find out!"

Before Summer could stop her, the Commando had driven her fist through the wall of stone. Only it wasn't made of stone at all - it was instead constructed of thin steel painted to look like stone, and the strength of the Venn Brace gave the Scottish highlander all the power she needed to punch a hole through it as though it was made of wet tissue paper. With a few grunts of exertion, Jack tore away more of the alien alloy and aimed her light into the cave _within_ the cave, revealing what appeared to be a river of water flowing straight _up _along the back wall of a small Outsider enclosure.

The huntress let out a low whistle as she stepped into the room, nodding to Jack in approval. "Fascinating…" she said as she brushed her fingertips against the rushing, rising water, "This must be how they're draining the lake. Kinetic barriers form zero-contact, frictionless pathways that keep the rushing water from spilling out, and elerium anti-gravity generators pump the water up the legs of the platform. Interesting."

"I cannae read any of their writing," said the Mucallin as her fingers traced a nearby diagram, "but it looks like these pipes go all the way to the top o' the tower. Maybe there's a tank of some kind that their ships can come and pick up?"

"Possibly. At any rate, that's gotta be where the Command Room is," finished Summer. "And if the battle's still going on, then odds are the Field Commander hasn't left his lofty perch."

"Right coward he'd be in that case," growled Jack, shaking her head. "Reckon someone ought to go up there and finish the job, cause the boys ain't gonna punch through anytime soon."

The two women looked back at each other, and grinned as silver stared into green.

"How long can you hold your breath when you're not in shock from getting shot?"

"Four minutes, easy. And you? How good of a swimmer are you when you're not carrying my useless arse?"

"A _damn _good one. Take a deep breath - we're gonna need it."

"Right then, Summer. Ready when you are."

So after a moment of gathering up their gear (and stowing their radios into their waterproof field packs) and breathing in and out slowly, Summer took Jack's hand as they stepped into the floating pipe.

The water this time around wasn't dark, due to the constant light trickling in from the glowing walls, but it was _just _as cold. Still, Summer kept her breath locked firmly in her lungs, looking over at Jack to confirm she was okay. The Mucallin lady gave a nod and a smirk as they ascended in the current, her red hair floating around her like fire in the water.

The constant rushing did most of the work for them, sending them up the pipe as if they were part of the lake water being transported. Floors and doorways flew past the women in the blink of an eye, leaving them with a dizzying sense of vertigo as they rose higher and higher. It faded after a moment of adjustment, however, and soon the rest of the trip to the top was spent in anticipation.

As they rode the water to the top, Summer's mind wandered, and she suddenly began having second thoughts. What if there was some kind of alien filtration system that vaporized them as they ascended? Or what if the water was actually being pulled in by a giant fan that was waiting to crush them at the end? Or what if they ran out of air on the way up and drowned before they could reach the command post? Could they risk poking their face out to get a quick breath, or would that tip the balance too much and result in a deadly fall?

A million questions raced through Summer's air-starved mind as her chest began to ache, her throat itching to release the tension and breathe again. As if Jack could sense her uncertainty, though, her hand squeezed Summer's tightly, and her smile, though strained, was still as confident as ever.

_Everything will be alright_, her eyes seemed to say. _Just hold out a little longer._

Summer returned the smile as best she could, squeezing her fingers tighter and closing her eyes.

A sudden downward turn jolted her sense of balance, and told her that they were close. Sure enough, the pipe flowed into a small reservoir that, mercifully, wasn't completely full to the top yet. After being dumped into the tank like they'd just exited the world's weirdest water slide, Summer and Jack kicked back to the surface, where a well-deserved breath of fresh air awaited them.

"Pfffhahahaha!" Jack giggled, spitting water and wet locks of red hair out of her mouth as they treaded water. "Well, that was refreshing! Much more fun than just a day at the beach, eh?"

Summer chuckled, splashing the Mucallin lightly. "I guess. Though I wouldn't have minded a few stops along the way to catch our breath." She looked down at the bottom of their little pool, noting a transparent window lining the lower wall. "If these tanks are linked to the command room in some way, then going down there might be our best bet. Unless you wanna splash around a bit first…"

"Ah, we can do that after we tear the Outsiders a new set of arseholes," said Jack with a grin. "_Then _we can go swimming properly."

"Sounds like a plan. Follow me."

After taking one more deep breath, Summer elegantly and effortlessly dove fifteen feet to the bottom of the reservoir, pressing her face to the glass and peering into the room beyond. Silver eyes stared intently past the bubbles that left her curled lips, taking note of the aliens standing around what looked like some kind of holographic image. Nothing too spectacular or difficult in terms of enemy forces - four regular rank-and-file Outsiders, a Muton, and two Drones. Summer had to guess that most of the heavy troops were already out in the field.

There was also an Outsider decked out in golden armor and adorned with a pure white cloak. If anything matched the description of the Field Commander, it had to be that.

Jack joined her side a moment later, looking to Summer quizzically. With a series of hand motions, the submerged Huntress pointed first to one of the regular Outsiders, then the drones. Then she pointed at the Muton, taking care to point to herself immediately after pointing it out. The Mucallin woman nodded, and swam back a bit to watch what happened next.

Summer drew Wandering Thorn and pulled the trigger near the handle, extending and activating the blade's laser mechanism in one motion. Clouds of bubbling steam hissed and erupted around her as the water boiled instantly upon coming into contact with the blade; she did her best to ignore the pain as she plunged the heated tip through the glass, dragging the sword upwards. The troops guarding the Field Commander reacted to the noise instantly, turning on the spot to see two women back-to-back, floating in the tank and glaring daggers at the Outsiders. After recovering from their momentary surprise, the aliens began firing on Summer and Jack...which turned out to be the wrong move, and exactly what the soldiers were counting on.

The barrier soon shattered as the weight of the water became too great for the fractured glass to hold. A rushing tidal wave surged from the newly-made opening, sweeping the aliens off their feet before spilling out of any and all openings in the Command Room. One unfortunate Outsider was swept away in the current; the rest managed to hold on, bringing their guns to face Summer and Jack once the water settled.

But by then, the women were already on the move.

Wandering Thorn lashed out in arcing, sweeping crimson slashes, separating Muton hands from forearms and a Muton head from what used to be its neck. An Outsider turned its Laser SMG on Summer, but Jack crashed into it with a mighty yell, grappling for control of the gun as the trooper's allies fired into its back. The drones started to move to flank the opponents, but two well-aimed shots from a "borrowed" Scatter Blaster dropped them out of the air, fizzling and sparking as they fell to the ground.

Summer cast aside the now-empty shotgun, before grabbing the dueling blade from the Muton's belt. "Catch!" she shouted, tossing the collapsed sword to her fellow fighting female. Jack grabbed the weapon by the handle with a grin, extending the blade and using it to finish off her opponent before bringing up the Laser SMG, turning its rapid fire on the two remaining Outsiders and cutting them down in a haze of red bolts.

The Field Commander snarled at Summer and Jack, drawing its own sword and igniting the glowing red blade with a hiss.

Jack looked at Summer, who looked back. The two women shared an unimpressed, almost bored glance, before nodding wordlessly and charging at the last opponent.

The ensuing duel was fast and brief. To the alien officer's credit it put up a good fight, with a firm handle on blocking, countering, and parrying. But it simply couldn't hold a candle to the Infiltrator; compared to that duelist, the cornered Outsider may as well have been a child with a training sword. This gap in skill was compounded by the fact that there were _two _opponents to juggle, as Summer and Jack seemingly danced and flowed around it in synchronized strikes.

The Mucallin woman wasn't as fast as the homeless huntress, but she was _strong. _Her series of blows nearly knocked the blade out of the Field Commander's grip, and she regularly mixed up her traditional sword strokes with disorienting punches and kicks. Her ferocity and aggression was actually what netted Jack the killing blow - when Summer left a burning gash on the officer's side, she followed it up with a pommel strike that knocked it over, finishing the fight with a blazing decapitating slash.

Summer and Jack stood there for a moment longer, panting and suddenly aware of how heavy their soaked clothes felt. Eventually, the silver-eyed woman looked to her friend, and smiled.

"Hey. Nice work." She stowed Wandering Thorn back on her hip, and extended a hand.

Jack chuckled breathily, doing the same and pulling on Summer's hand to deliver a one-armed hug and shoulder bump. "Aye. You're a mighty fine warrior yerself, lass. You'd make a fine Mucallin, you would."

Summer chuckled as well, pulling Jack in for a proper hug, which she was more than happy to return. Eventually, they pulled away, and started reaching into their packs as if they had the same thought.

"Reckon these things have dried out yet?"

"I'd think so. Let's see if we can hear what the boys are saying out there."

So after fiddling with the dried radios, they eventually picked up on the confused chatter of the rest of their squad.

"_ \- damndest thing, Bravo-Zero. All the bloody Outsiders just seized up and started foaming at the mouth."_

_"Interesting...Whiskey-Three, can you confirm Lima-Five's observation?"_

_"That I can, sir. All the Sectoids and Mutons we've spent the last hour fighting just jumped into the lake. And I'm pretty sure they don't know how to swim."_

_"Hmm...any idea what could have caused this?"_

"I might have an idea," Summer said into the receiver with a barely concealed smile.

There was total silence on the other end, before Carter found his voice first.

"_Sierra-Three! You're...alive?"_

"Sorry to disappoint, Whiskey."

"_What about Juliet-Five?" _A Scottish voice asked. "_Is she -"_

"Aye, that I am," answered Jack with a smile of her own.

Summer could practically hear relieved weeping fill the static. "_Spirits above...I thought I'd lost you…"_

"You nearly did," said Jack, her smile faltering a bit. "I honestly thought I was ready to join with me ancestors." The smile returned. "But Sierra-Three here fished me out of the pond, she did, and patched me back up in a cave. I owe her my life twice over now."

"I'd do it again in a heartbeat, Juliett-Five." Summer reached over and gave Jack's hand a squeeze.

"_Where are you two now?_"

"In the Command room," said Summer. "That cave turned out to house a hidden backdoor for one of their water collection systems. We followed it right to the top, and neutralized the Field Commander."

"_That would explain why the Zudjari reacted like they did," _mused Shen. "_Whiskey-Zero has a hypothesis that their cranial implants link them not only to Mosaic, but to each other. So perhaps killing the Field Commander triggered some kind of feedback that activated the killswitch...it's certainly the most logical explanation, as horrifying as it may be."_

_"We'll look into it when we send a dispatch team for dismantling and recovery purposes, and to return the stolen lake water," _said Faulke plainly. "_For now, though, your work is done. Regroup at the base level, and the Skyrangers will pick you up and bring you home. Good work everyone. Vigilo Confido."_

"Thanks Bravo-Zero," finished Summer, "Sierra-Three, over and out." She clipped her radio back onto her belt, and looked around. "There's that lift Shen mentioned. Ready to head back?"

"Not quite yet, lass. There's something else I gotta do."

Summer watched as Jack turned to face her back towards her, removing her pack and working to unbutton her soaked jacket. Once it was free she pulled it down to her elbows, revealing the bare muscular skin on her shoulders and upper back as well as a mess of white cloth straps tied haphazardly to hold and shape the chest on the other side. Right now the linen weave was halfway between loose and tight, as if it embodied the metaphysical midpoint between the man Jack pretended to be and the woman she truly was.

"Oh, right, your chest bindings," said Summer, already moving to stand behind Jack. "Did you want me to tighten them back up for you?"

Jack shook her head. "Nay. I want you to cut them."

Summer smiled, but raised an eyebrow. "You sure? Once the secret's out, there's no going back."

"I'm sure," said the Mucallin woman. "I thought about what you said, and you're right. You and Weaver proved that you were strong enough to keep up with the lads. And now, so have I. I've been hiding who I am for more than ten years now, but not anymore. It's time for the world to see Jack and Alfred Mucallin for who they really are - not as brothers in arms, but as wife and husband on the battlefield. You helped me see that...so I want you to be the one to set me loose. Fer good, this time."

Pride swelled within the silver-eyed huntress as she reached for a knife in her boot and cut the knot with a single tug, the cloths falling away to the ground. Then she ran her hands over the bare skin, working to smooth out the marks that the bindings had left after years of digging into Jack's flesh as the Mucallin woman moaned in relief.

"You're a brave woman, Jaqueline Mucallin," intoned Summer as she worked her hands up to the shoulders, "I'm honored that I got to fight alongside you today."

"Ah, the honor's all mine, it is," chuckled Jack as she nuzzled a cheek against Summer's knuckles. Then she stepped away to refasten her jacket, making no effort to hide the sudden change in shape. "Shall we go?"

Summer took Jack's hand as they stepped into the lift, this one full of breathable air. "Yes, let's."

The homeless Huntress felt a glow in her chest as she and her new sister-in-arms took an anti-gravity lift back to the ground floor. It only brightened as the doors opened to reveal the other ten members of the assault team standing around, bloodied and bruised but alive. And it reached a critical mass when the other redhead from Strike Five practically _ran_ at his drenched, waterlogged wife, sweeping her up into a deep, grateful, unashamed kiss.

Dawson's smart remark died in his throat as the men saw Jack for who she really was. Shen smiled warmly. Adam just looked confused. Knox did his best to look annoyed, but he eventually cracked a small smile. The rest of Strike Five - Loveday, Diaz, Max, even grumpy old Briggs - applauded and nodded in approval.

And Carter went over to Summer and clasped a hand on her shoulder, the two of them sharing a meaningful stare.

"You gave us all one hell of a scare," growled Carter. "You realize that, right?"

Summer chuckled. "Wouldn't be the first time. Probably won't be the last, either."

He furrowed his brow, adjusting his hat. "Yeah, well, try not to make a habit out of it. Seeing you get carved up by that Infiltrator was bad enough. I wasn't looking forward to telling Faulke we lost one of our best agents cause you forgot how to swim."

She smiled wryly, brushing a sopping wet lock of hair behind her ear. "Careful there, Mister Carter. It almost sounded like you were actually _worried _about me for a moment there."

Carter blinked twice, then sighed. "Yeah, well...maybe I was. You got a problem with that?"

"No sir," hummed Summer as her hands clasped Carter's for a moment. "None whatsoever."

The leaders of Strike Three pulled away after a moment of contact, content to watch the pair previously known as the "Mucallin brothers" hug and kiss even as the Skyrangers flew in low.

Jaqueline Mucallin had been brave enough to reveal her secret to the world.

Maybe someday, Summer would feel brave enough to do the same.

* * *

A/N: Special thanks to Gunfighter 1-1 on Discord, whose portrayal of the character Martha Mucallin on the REMCOM RP server inspired Jack and Alfred Mucallin in this story. You rock, buddy!

Anyways, thanks for joining me for our first ever double feature! The next few chapters will be dealing with "Signal From Beyond", the next major story mission in The Bureau: XCOM Declassified. I'll need to research and figure out how to adapt that level into a narrative story, so it might be a while until the next update. Until then, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed yourselves, and keep being awesome! I'll see you guys next time!


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